For What It's Worth
by C620
Summary: Anna Laker is the only child of Amity's Ambassors. Having intel on the factions ever since she became a teen, she knows she'll pick Dauntless at the choosing ceremony. Anna struggles over control in her actions, morals clashing as she learns to find tune of herself in Dauntless. ...Now, add three genetically modified hounds into the mix.
1. 1

**Hi! Just some stuff I need to lay out before you go ahead reading.**

**\- I don't own Divergent or any of the characters from the series (those belonging to Veronica Roth) but I do own any OCs and the added ideas.**

**\- Choosing ceremony age is 18**

**\- War and Tris's batch is pushed a year back. So Eric and Four are 20, while Tris is 17.**

**\- There hasn't been an Amity transfer for more than 20 years.**

**\- The main character - Anna - is a divergent**

* * *

I take a step back, the response immediate. Something presses itself to my side - a warm firm body. Instinctively, my right-hand reaches down, fingers threading itself through soft, half-inch long fur.

"Hold." The fur beneath me bristles, releasing a warning growl. Nodding once, I watch the armor-clothed figure – my cousin – take a step forward. The air shifts and the silver beast paces to stand in front of me, elbows and head bent, ears slightly back – last warning.

I stare at my cousin, his face tense and chest puffed. Even with his seemingly intimidating posture, his eyes give way to nervousness. Sucking in a deep breath, I breathed out: "Go." The command was barely a sound, yet instantly the ears of the hound lay flat. Like a coiled spring, the animal surges forward, hind legs propelling its body at such speeds that none can outrun. It crosses the gap between me and the man within mere seconds – so fast that John barely has time to react. He lifts his arm, a reflex to protect his face, but before it reaches it's violently thrown back. A 65-pound dog clamped down with its jaws, body mid-air from the leap. I watch as the dog deftly twist itself, the impact causing the arm to jerk oddly, throwing the victim off balance. John follows the inertia with practiced movements, careful not to resist as it may risk the dislocation of his arm. He lands ungracefully onto the soil, grunting as the air escapes his lungs. The hound releases the arm, going straight to the supposedly twisted shoulder, just as he's been taught.

In a real situation, the shoulder would've taken months to recover, especially with the way my dog throws his weight around as he continues to severe the man. Sabre is an absolute beast, the deadliest due to his lack of hesitation to act and his inhuman speeds. I watch with pride as the silver-coated dog continues to fight against John, latching his jaws onto different parts of the body when John attempts to hit him.

"Break!" I yell over the curses my cousin – he grumbling along the lines of not being prepared. The dog stops, releasing the thick cloth immediately before trotting back to my side, tail wagging and tongue lolling out. He turns to look back before reaching me, making sure that John was still down. I shake my head and smile, crouching down to hug the dog. "That's my boy." I coo, hands ruffling the scruff of his neck.

I then walk over to John, peering down at him lying on the ground. Flicking with two fingers, Sabre trots off to trees, slinking back into the background. "I'm telling you, these dogs? Absolute killers. I don't see why you have to train them anymore," my cousin grumbles. I chuckle and stick out a hand, John clasps my arm and I pull him to his feet.

"Oh hush," I roll my eyes, "you speak like you get the brunt of it."

"_I do!_" He exclaims, throwing his arms in the air before gesturing to himself wildly. I suppose he does have a point. The baggy cloth he's wearing is embellished with many tears - a tangible masterpiece of my dogs' capabilities. It was my idea to have John wear Nano-armour over the bite suit. Without it, John would've been getting the same scars that coated my forearms. He's lucky that I learned from my mistakes.

"It's the last day, loosen up a lil, yeah?" John huffs and rolls his eyes, looking away. "I think I'm just glad that I don't have to wear this pathetic excuse of protective gear anymore" he scoffs, gesturing at the battered cloth. But his face softens for a moment and then his eyes bore into mine. "Promise me you'll do well?"

A sad smile forms at the corner of my mouth. "I'll still come to visit, it's not a big deal," I attempt to ease the worry in his eyes. I'm not sure who I was convincing, because it's a lie. It was a big deal. Choosing ceremony was tomorrow, and for the first time in my 18 years, I'll be alone, no dogs, no parents, no John. I push those thoughts away before they escalate, we still have work to get done. Giving him an awkward hug as the suit he was wearing is still bulky, baggy and smelly, I pat him on the back. "Don't get all sad on me now, it's illegal here." A grin spreads across my face, "Plus, we still have two more dogs to go. And I promise they won't be as bad as Sabre."

John groans, crushing me into a hug for a moment before letting go. Straightening his rather flattering outfit, he steps away and smiles, huffing in annoyance. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

We ended slightly earlier today, with him claiming that I need to spend these last few hours with my 'kids'. He passed me the cloth-based frisbee and shoo me out of the backyard, grumbling about how he needs a good shower.

So here I was, out in the fields that stretched to the fence. My dogs trek alongside me, occasionally pausing to sniff the grass before continuing. I stop when we reach a good distance away from civilization. It was still early in the evening, and the sun was yet to set. Glancing at the fence, I watch in mild interest at the Dauntless stomping along the fence. They guard the city against things no one knows. I often wonder how they do it, standing there in the stifling heat dressed in black for hours on end. I can barely make out what each person looked like, just their hair length and body build – that's how high up they were.

Turning back to the fields, I lay down. My palms smoothen out my slightly dirty, red pleated skirt before lean against my arms. Gunner digs the earth at my side, uncovering soft soil before lying down beside me. He seemed to have tired from the other two antics, choosing to enjoy my presence instead of playing the endless game of chase. Despite being the most serene among the three, Gunner was the most protective. He always stuck close by me, regardless of whether it was needed. I stroke the back of his ears, my fingers easily sliding through his fur. Gunner was bigger than the other two and had a longer coat. His fur was gold, with a black overcoat. Though, his gold fur was still easily seen, accentuated around his shoulder blades, neck and thighs. Sable, that's the official name for his coat.

The loudly thumping of paws and panting of breath makes me groan. I only manage to twist my back halfway before familiar grey-black fur barrels into my back. "Sabre!" I whine, laughing as the attack dog lick my cheeks and mouth. My face scrunches up and I spit onto the ground, disgusted. Crazy creature, he was, and an annoying one too. Sabre was a bundle of joy and irritation the moment he came out of the incubation pod. The loudest and rowdiest of the trio. I pushed him away with my arm, and he thankfully backs off, not before tugging my skirt with his teeth to get me to play with him.

Minutes tick to hours as I stay at the fields, throwing the frisbee for Sabre and Hawk. It's a delight to watch the dogs have fun, definitely something I'll never tire from. At one point, joy bubbles in my chest. I find myself chasing the dogs, laughing and squealing as they try to instead nip my skirt. I'm vaguely aware that I was acting like a hysterical Amity; though, I don't particularly care. At one point Sabre runs towards me, making me stretch my arms out as he jumps onto me. I manage to catch him, my feet still firmly on the ground despite the 65 pounds of pure muscle that decided he was now a lap dog. I giggle and spin him around while he whines and shuffles in my arms, realizing that he wasn't cut out to be one.

As I'm about to place him down, another mass of muscle collides with my front. Instantly my legs give out, falling with Sabre on top of me. The silver dog yelps and scrambles off me, going to the side of my face to see if I still alive enough to feed him dinner. "Hawk!" I groan, rubbing the back of my head that wasn't too badly injured, we were on soft soil after all. A light brown dog sporting black ears and mask comes into view, panting heavily over me. "You ass!" I grumble, shoving him off as I move to sit up. Gunner barks from behind me, growling at Hawk. "Both of you!" I gesture to the silver and brown ones condescendingly, "Just horrible! Most of my wounds come when you guys decide to have an adrenaline rush!" I sigh and stand while Hawk looks up apologetic towards me, at least, I think it's apologetic. Waving him off, I dust my clothes to remove the grass and soil that stuck.

The sun is beginning to set, the colors mixing between coral and azure. It's a magnificent sight, one I don't often see despite coming to the fields every day. However, right when I'm about to head home, something heavy settle on my back, something akin to someone staring. I turn around and look at the fence, for there was no one else except for the Dauntless for a good mile radius. And right there, multiple stories high is a man. Now, of course, he isn't the only man on the fence, but with his back hunched as he rests his elbows against the railings, I knew his attention is to me. Blood creeps to my face as I wonder how long he's been standing there, watching me frolic and fall like a lunatic with 3 dogs. Gunner comes to stand beside me, noticing the way I tensed. I stroke his back and glance at the dog whose head came to my hips, it didn't help that I wasn't very tall. The sable dog looks at me questioningly, I shake my head. Despite my assurance, the dog continued to stay tense beside me, ears perked and twitching towards every sound made.

The Dauntless stares back unabashedly, and I can't tell what he's thinking,\ for I can't see. Is he smirking? Frowning? Leering? Smiling? Is he even looking at me? For all I know, he could be watching the sunset too. It was, after all, a beautiful sunset; though, the sunset is the other direction. The Erudite in me tells me to not be stupid, of course, he's staring at me. The Dauntless cocks his head to the side and I note his bulky muscular build. He wears a sleeveless vest that seems to cling to his torso. His hair short or tied, and from what I can tell, a dark color.

As minutes stretch on, I contemplate going up to the fence to get a closer look, maybe ask him why the hell he's staring. I should feel creeped out, yet I don't. There's something about him, like he wasn't some perv checking me out, as much as his actions suggest so. I can't help the warmth blossoming at my chest when I look down, breaking eye contact – if we were maintaining eye contact in the first place. It kinda felt oddly nice.

Being with dogs has desensitized me from people around, minus my parents and John. I don't have friends, nor do I feel the need to have any. Most of my schooling life was spent alone, even before the dogs. I never felt particularly lonely or left out, mainly because Amity never actually leaves anyone out. So, despite being somewhat a loner, there were still people who engaged small talk with me. But most of the time I find myself withholding a rude remark about how I don't care how your day is going – not that I've told anyone that.

The sun's almost gone and the sky's settling into a deep blue. I start heading back home. My dogs tag along behind me, somewhat tired from running the past hour.

I don't look back as I trek. Maybe it was the fear of disappointment if he was wasn't staring at me anymore, or the hope if he still was, I wasn't sure. I decided to give myself the benefit of doubt, and walk home with a slight skip. Stupid Amity roots.

* * *

**A/N**

**So, I had this idea for a while now. ****Decided to give it a shot after I realised I spent to much time day dreaming over it.**

**Definitely going to be a slow burn.**

**The chapters in the beginning are pretty short and choppy. I'm working on editing them. It gets smoother further along :)**


	2. 2

Entering my home, I slip off my tennis shoes at the door and place them on the shoe rack. Father always voiced that having shoes in the house was illogical and unhygienic; an Erudite quirk that hadn't quite faded through the years. Of course, this verdict applies to all members of the household, including those with paws. Grabbing the cloth by the door, I crouch to clean three sets of feet. The dogs are beat, not hesitating to trudge to the kitchen for water after I clear them.

Only when I finally shut the door, do I belatedly realize that the house smells of my favorite dish – lasagne. My mom was just placing a pot of goodness when I entered the dining room. The apron and mittens she wore wasn't something I could ever be used to seeing. To me, my mother belonged outside, much like me. "Hey."

She perks up, a smile immediately gracing her lips. "How was your day?"

The man at the fence briefly flashes through my mind. "The usual: dog training with John, fields, yadda yadda. Nothing special" I list nonchalantly, waving my hand. Giving a mom a quick hug, I head to the kitchen. "You?"

The meat was already on the counter, a mixture of raw beef, bones, organs, and chicken. Washing my hands and grabbing a knife, I pulled out a chopping board and three metal bowls. "I went to Dauntless today, it was... eventful..." I turn my head towards her, my interest piqued. "I'll tell you when Adrian comes home." Nodding absentmindedly, I spend the next few minutes chopping and dishing out the meat. My dogs eat in luxury, never would I ever feed them the sad excuse alternative: kibble. Raw meat was much easier, much less maintenance on my side. Plus, it was much healthier too, their shiny coats prove so.

Picking up two bowls, I turn to face the already sitting the dogs. They eye the bowls with their heads perked and tails wagging. Amused, I placed the bowls in front of Sabre and Hawk, not waiting any longer to prevent them from drooling all over the tiles. The dogs were shoveling the food down their throats before I even finish placing Gunner's bowl down. After cleaning the counter, I re-enter the dining room. Dad just came through the door, face tense and stressed. My mother was there to greet him, kissing him on the lips briefly before placing his case away. I stand by the threshold and watch them interact. My parents were the epitome of love. I never understood their strong bond despite transferring from different factions and having different views. Watching them every day only made me wish that I would find someone that would love me as much as they love each other. For some reason, my mind drifts back to the man at the fence. Even from afar, I felt a bond creating. No wait, that sounds stupid. Maybe I'm being ridiculous.

I _am_ being ridiculous.

Shaking my head from my thoughts, I take a seat at the table while my parents do the same. Dad's the first to break the silence, "so I was at Erudite today…" He pauses to scoop out a hefty portion of lasagne. "and I think they're up to something big." The one thing about Erudite is that they are always up to something, it was their sly actions that made Dad and I create the dogs, believing that there will come a day where we would use them. He didn't trust Erudite, despite being a former Erudite himself. It was his mistrust that he insisted to be an ambassador, wanting to keep a close eye. Johanna immediately agreed, she and Adrian were in the same initiate class, and quickly become close friends. When Johanna was elected as the leader, she placed Adrian and Sarah as ambassadors, trusting them to collect information, ensuring that Amity will always silently be in the loop of things.

"How so?" I ask.

"Well to start, Erudite," he coughs, "mostly Jeanine, has been releasing reports on Abnegation hoarding food." Mother and I frown. "Which is ridiculous, considering that it's _Abnegation._ If Abnegation was truly hoarding food, the people will finally gain some weight, and honestly, they should." He chews thoughtfully. Leave it to my tree-hugger dad to find fault in every faction. "Plus, the whole point of Erudite giving us the gene-modifier tech was to increase food production, which has. So, I don't even see the point of releasing accusations when there isn't a big shortage of food."

"Maybe Erudite thinks Abnegation gets first pick on the produce?" I chip in.

"That's untrue. But maybe. Honestly, if the food was such a problem, Jeanine should be coming to Amity – me, instead. I'm sure we can figure something out. I mean, it's not like I go to Erudite every week." He rolls his eyes sarcastically.

"If Erudite is up to something, I bet Dauntless is in the loop." Mom pipes, the frown on her face becoming more and more prominent. "Max and Eric have been frequenting to Erudite, I always have to reschedule my meetings with them."

"Any reason why?" Dad asks with his head tilted. The fact that he isn't aware means that the meetings were held in secret.

"I didn't pry. Though, on the bright side, Max did shed some news on the initiate program. Apparently, Eric has been installing massive changes." My ears perk up at the mention of the initiation program, I was hungry to know what becoming a Dauntless was like.

Mom shares of the new 'cut system' and how conceding was no longer an option during initiate fights. I wince at the news, feeling grateful for the two years I spent preparing for the physical stage of initiation. When I told my parents that I plan to transfer to Dauntless, they weren't shocked at my revelation. It was common for kids to transfer back to their parent's original factions. So my mom began to prepare me for Dauntless, taking time off a few days a week to teach me fighting techniques and help me build my fitness. It was also when I was 16 when Dad started to develop the dogs, tweaking the DNA of the canines preserved from before the Great War, courtesy of Erudite technology.

As she elaborates on the changes, I think about Dauntless's newest leader: Eric Coulter. From that I'm hearing, he seems to be some sadist that enjoyed watching dependants – who've just picked their new life – become factionless. Who in the right mind gave him the position? My head pounds as I try to understand his decisions. I decided immediately that I dislike him. He's definitely someone I wouldn't want to associate with.

Mom continues talking about the relationship between the head and youngest leader, saying how Max seems rather fond of the 20-year-old. My face scrunches into disgust. Why was Max even allowing the initiation process to turn so brutal? There had to be a reason, and I have a feeling that I wouldn't like the answer.

* * *

After dinner, I help clean the table and check on the dogs. They were sleeping in the living room, out like a light. I took a long shower, savoring the warm water like it was the last, and went to spend my last few hours with my parents. I will miss them, just like I would miss John and my dogs. I briefly consider staying in Amity, then I won't need to consider 'faction before blood'. Perhaps the phrase was good for those with want nothing to do with their family. For me, it was an inconvenience, a major one at that. But I knew Amity wasn't for me, I couldn't stand everyone, all they are are high-on-peace-serum smiling drunkards. I rarely dine at the Dome, but when I do, it's often with my parents or John, the only people - well maybe Johanna too - who make an effort to avoid the dinner rolls. There was only so much I can do to avoid the general population, and I knew that if I stayed, there was no way I could.

I slip into bed that night, Gunner by my feet while the other two were still passed out downstairs. The moon's bright through my window and I try not to think about how it may be the last I'll see it for a long time. The fact that Dauntless lives underground puts me off, perhaps I could slip out once in a while.

At the thought of Dauntless, my mind drifts back to the man at the fence. I wonder what he thought of me. Did I look like every other Amity? Though it was a possibility, I highly doubt it, he wouldn't have stared so long if I was just another 'banjo-strummer'. Perhaps he was intrigued by my dogs, that was a larger possibility. My heart sinks at that thought, and I try to brush that away. I question if it's the first time he's seeing me, I never actually paid much attention to the guards by the fence. For all I know, he could've been watching me every day, and was only caught today. The fact that he didn't turn away and hide his actions was what drew me to him. Would I meet him in the Dauntless compound? Or will I have to get a job at the fence to meet him? Was he even a fence guard?

I grab one of my pillows and crush it to my face, groaning. I need to stop overthinking and overanalyzing things. Slamming the pillow on my face repeatedly, I try to rid all thoughts of the man. I didn't need a mirror to know that my cheeks were beet red. Stupid Erudite, stupid hormones, stupid man.

After having a brief reprimanding session with myself, I close my eyes and will sleep to come to me. I need all the sleep I can get. I will get all the sleep I can get. No stupid Dauntless man is going to take that away from me. _No one._

What does his hair feel like?

* * *

**A/N **

**I can't stop writing. I started this story three days ago and I'm already on chapter 7.****This is not healthy****.-.**


	3. 3

Monday: Choosing Day.

My eyes flew open at that thought. The sun had just risen, 7 am. Three hours before I leave my faction behind. It was bittersweet, leaving Amity. Sensing my distress and sudden shaky breaths, Gunner comes to my side, snuggling up to provide moral support for things he didn't understand. I spend a few minutes on my bed, hugging my dog close as I try to commit everything to memory. My plain room with simple beige walls, with pictures of my dogs and I stuck all over. There's a wooden wardrobe by the toilet door, containing clothes of Amity colors: red, orange, yellow.

A knock sounds at the door, and I brace myself. Without a moment to spare, it's forced open as my dogs do their routine wake-up call: Jumping on my bed and invading my personal space. I giggled as a mass of silver and fawn fur pin my sheets down, sniffing and licking my face. Gunner huffs and hops off the bed, passing my dad at the doorway in mild irritation. "Choosing ceremony." he greets, lips pursed.

"Choosing ceremony." I parrot back, my expression mirroring his as the air turns somber.

"Breakfast's downstairs," he says – an attempt to break the awkward silence that had fallen. I nod in response as he slips out of my room, closing the door to give me privacy. After reciprocating the morning greeting, I quickly brushed my teeth. Deciding for once to ditch my red pleated skirts, I slip on dark brown jeggings and paired it with a maroon shirt. It'll have to do, mother said that Dauntless starts their initiation the moment I leave the ceremony – with running.

Slipping on a hair tie on my wrist, I check my reflection one last time in my room. Green eyes stare back at me, excitement and sadness fighting for dominance. Round eyes, button nose, pink bow-shaped lips. My brown hair came down to my shoulders, slightly wavy but relatively straight. I have to thank my mother for my good looks, for I most resembled her. All except my eyes, those came from Adrian. He seems to love that fact, occasionally boasting it to his wife whenever I wear a dress that makes my eyes pop.

I turn my attention to the pictures posted all around the mirror. Each one showing my dogs and I playing or snuggling together in various stages of their lives. I pluck a small polaroid, it was a picture of us in the fields during sunset. John had tagged along that day, whipping out his camera when he saw the picture-perfect moment. Gunner was lying in front of me, staring straight into the camera in all his majestic glory. I sat cross-legged behind him, hands supporting my back. Sabre had crept from behind me, pouncing and licking my face right when I didn't expect it. The picture was him in a mid-lick, his tongue on my cheek while was my head was turned to the side, scrunched up and squealing. For Hawk, only his face was visible. He was in the middle of sniffing the camera, I was surprised he didn't take up half of the picture. His face was comical and slightly blurred, his black nose bigger than my head. He looked kind-of stupid, with his eyes so close that it looked crossed. I love it. Tucking the palm-sized image into my bra, I head out of my room.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. My parents dressed in their Amity best, which wasn't much compared to Erudite and Candor. We occasionally exchange small talk, unsure of what to say.

Before we left the house, I slip on harnesses onto my dogs, as well as leashing them. I know the separation wasn't going to go down well, so I'm prepared for the worst. We made our way to Johanna's office-stable, customary for all who's attending the ceremony. The walk is silent, me pondering about my new life while my parents comfort each other. The hounds seem excited, tails wagging and noses sniffing, they must think that we are going on an adventure. Leashes always mean new adventures.

"Anna." Johanna greets, pulling me into an embrace. She gives me a comforting squeeze before pulling away.

"Johanna."

A beat passes. Johanna has been supportive of the dogs since day one. Despite supposedly being the representative of our faction, she too doesn't trust the rest to play their part in keeping the peace. She was the one who suggested attack dogs, having Adrian visit the Erudite library to find out more about how dogs were used before the Great War. Dad left the dogs' genetic makeup to me, trusting that I'll pick dogs with good temperaments and physique.

Gunner is a german shepherd. He's the bravest and most courageous of the three, and if Dauntless were to ever have a mascot, it would be him. The only feature I tweaked about the sable-colored dog is his territorial tendencies, swapped and heightened with a Bullmastiffs'.

Sabre is built like the killer he is. The consequences of mixing his genes with a grey wolf – for stronger jaws – is his volatile playfulness and his occasional need for howling. He's noticeably larger compared to a normal Belgian Malinois, though, not bigger than Gunner. However, he is marginally taller.

Hawk is the smallest. He's an escape artist, a result of sharing the intelligence of a Border Collie. The fawn-colored Belgian Malinois is typically quiet, spending most of his time analyzing situations if he isn't playing with Sabre. Hawk is the one I've spent the most time on during training, his capability to pick up on things never cease to amaze me. The downside of this dog is his sudden whims to herd when he sees the sheep grazing in the fields. Gunner and Sabre often join in, their breed originally being herders themselves. Most of the time it causes a ruckus since the sheep are more used to the smaller less vicious border collies farmers use.

Out of the three, Hawk is always the first to befriend a stranger. He's queer in a way that he often craves the attention of people around over mine; not that I'm complaining - Sabre and Gunner are a handful already.

Johanna turns to the three hounds that flank my side. "Don't worry. They'll be safe with me." She says.

I try to smile back, but I can't. I'm a mother who's abandoning her children. Though it will only be temporary, it does nothing to lessen the pain. "I know you will." I take a deep breath. "Thank you so much, for everything."

I hug my leader once more, before going down on a knee to my dogs. Seeing that I needed space, she backs off, turning to greet other 18-year-olds and their families with wide smiles. Gunner's the first to come to me. He always knows when I'm down, a skill he picked up after spending most of his life by my side. Grabbing the scruff around his neck, I leaned my forehead against his. "I love you," I whisper. I kiss him on the top of his head and pull him close, uncaring of the loose fur that will litter my shirt. My actions seem mechanic as I do the same for Hawk, then Sabre, though my heart beats erratically, breaking a little bit more as I let go of each one. I will not cry. I will not cry. The mantra repeats itself in my head. My dogs stare up at me, questioning and worried. I will not cry.

"So the beasts get hugs and kisses while I don't?" A man huffs playfully a few feet away, arms crossed and an eyebrow perked. At his voice I drop the leashes, a genuine smile gracing my face. I launch myself at him, his arms immediately encircling my waist, crushing me to his chest. 'Anna.' He greets belatedly.

"John." I pipe back, my hands pulling down his head to kiss his cheek. "I'll miss you."

"You better." His response is immediate, making me smack the upside of his head. John bursts out laughing, his chest bouncing and shaking me with him. He picks me up and spins me, eyes full of mirth as I squeal and cling onto him tightly. "I'll see you soon?"

"You will." At my reassurance, he tightens his hold. We stay like that for a few seconds, soaking up the last moments. To others, we seem like the perfect Amity couple, all laughter and embraces. John's woman was going to be one lucky ass.

Releasing me, John moves to pick up the abandoned leashes, "they'll be safe."

I smile back, this time, it doesn't quite reach my eyes. "Try not to get yourself killed in the process alright?" I attempt to joke.

John chuckles and shakes his head. "You don't say so yourself." I glance around to check if anyone's watching us, then flip him the bird.

"Stay," I tell my dogs, holding out my hand. They obediently do so, Hawk and Gunner lie down to get comfortable. Sabre wags his tail once before it falls flat. "I love you," I repeat, eyes meeting each one as I say them.

It was time. The trucks are starting to fill out with people, all of them talking animatedly or singing folk songs. My parents wave me over to one of the trucks and I turn. As I was about to reach them, something occurs in my mind. "Oh and John?"

'Yeah?' He stands watching me, the dogs in the position I left them.

"If they ever get out of hand, remember to feed-"

"Yes yes. I know," he waves off nonchalantly. "Shoo!"

I send him one more smile and climb into the truck, leaving my old life behind.

* * *

The hall is packed with people. I hurry to the Amity portion – smacked in the middle – and take a seat with my parents. With them sitting on either side of me, they embrace me and kiss my cheeks, telling me how proud they are, and how they know I'll do well in Dauntless. I smile and believe them. After all, I have been preparing for this since 16.

The ceremony starts with Johanna speaking of the history of the factions. Each faction cheers loudly at the mention of their own, with Dauntless being the wildest and the exception of Abnegation deciding that applause would suffice. Within moments, names are called and knives are passed. Each new knife a new life determined. The Amity is last to go, as we are the hosting faction.

"Anna Laker." I jerk from my seat, my heart suddenly beating miles an hour. My parents squeeze my hands in reassurance; I squeeze back. "I love you," I whisper, smiling at them.

Rising from my seat, I tense my legs as I walk to the stage. My knees are shaking and gooseflesh appear at the number of stares on my back. Johanna passes me the dagger, and mouths 'be brave.' I nod stiffly, taking a deep breath and make a small incision in my palm. As the blood begins to pool I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I can do this. I think the hall is silent, but I know there were still mutters. No one cared what you chose, they were probably forced into coming to show face.

I see a vision, a life of happiness and no worries – Amity. Do I want to leave? Especially with what's starting to brew between Dauntless and Erudite, and the newest malicious leader: Eric? Do I want to be caught up in this mess? I think back to my parents. They told me they transferred because they believed in peace among all. Amity is peace. They transferred because they didn't want to be in the loop when everything heads south, not trusting their factions to not be conspiring. I believe in peace, and I want peace. To achieve that, I'll need to dive into the heart of the problem. That's the only thing that makes me different from them. And sometimes, you must be the change you wish to see in the world.

At that, I spill my blood over the coals, the sizzling blood echoes the walls.

"Dauntless!"

Now, it was truly silent. What did I expect? The last transfer between Amity and Dauntless was more than twenty years ago – my mother. I wipe my non-bloodied sweaty palm on my pants, hands suddenly growing cold. Then the gasps start, and then the murmurs. I wince and glance at my previous faction, shock and horror evident on each face. I suppose I am a traitor, going against everything Amity stands for. They were so wrong. My eyes drift to my parents. They're smiling at me, pride and love shining through. I smile back and turn away, stumbling off the stage and grabbing some gauze Johanna had thoughtfully prepared for my hands.

And then it was like a dam broke. The Dauntless who've just recovered from their shock jump from their seats. They cheer and hoot loudly, it was louder than I've ever heard today. Some move forward to congratulate me and pat my back. I don't suppress the grin on my face as I move to take a seat one of them offered me. As the cheering slowly die down, which took much longer than usual, the ceremony continued.

I sit beaming as members of Dauntless throw full-blown grins at me, some telling me how brave I am. Suddenly curious, I turn from my seat and look around, trying to gauge the transfers. All Erudite and Candor. One of the Erudite boys stood out, mostly because he was glaring at me. My eyes narrow. _Huh._ The boy had dirty blonde hair, and oddly enough, muscles budging at his suit, resulting in the suit being tight around his torso.

Johanna finishes the ceremony by congratulating the 18-year-olds and wishing them well. The moment she concludes the ceremony, the Dauntless stand to leave. I run alongside them as they make their way down the building, running and hooting like hooligans. Joy bubbles my chest as I follow them; quickly tying my hair into a ponytail. As the Dauntless make their way to the railway tracks, I notice some of the transfers' steps faltering. We had to climb the beams to board the train. For once, I'm grateful for spending my childhood climbing trees, Dad said I could've broken my arm – which I did – but that's okay.

Effortlessly, I scale the beams that held the tracks, eyes always on the next step I take, never looking down. I was the second transfer to reach, with the bulky Erudite being the first. Someone had definitely been practicing.

"Tree-hugger! Hey!" a voice sounds to the right of me. It belonged to a Dauntless-born, he seems out of breath for some odd reason. I bit back a snarky remark, didn't need to make enemies on the first day of initiation. The boy continues after he takes a few breaths, realizing that I wasn't going to respond. "How" Pant. "Did you" Pant. "Climb the beams so fast?" he forces out the last part in one breath. I chuckle at how comical he looks, with his brunette hair sticking out in odd places, he didn't seem to have ill intentions.

"I'm a tree-hugger remember? I climb trees for fun." The boy grows red at my response, suddenly realizing how stupid his question was. His group of friends – another brunette boy and a blonde girl – laughs at him, slapping him on his back while he scratches his neck.

"I like you. I'm Skylar" The girl pipes, extending a hand out for me to shake. I blink once before clasping her hand stiffly in mine, Amity doesn't shake hands. She wiggles our hands awkwardly in what I assume is a handshake before letting go. "Idiot here is Jace. He's more muscle than brain."

"Hey!"

I chuckle. "I can tell."

"And this is Zack" Skylar introduces, gesturing to a slightly shorter boy beside her. He extends his hand in greeting, a grin on his face. I do my best to return the gesture, forcing myself to relax my arm as he shakes our hands.

"I'm Anna," I say. Just then, the platform beneath us rumbles. The train was heading to us quickly, and it didn't seem to be slowing. The Dauntless-born starts running with the train, I follow at their heels. As the train approaches, I watch them hurl themselves into the open carriages. Crazy people. Grabbing the handle by the door, I do my best to copy their actions. I stumble slightly as I yank myself into the carriage, scurrying further into the cart before I stand. Members and transfers pile in behind me, all landing with various stages of success.

I find the group of Dauntless-born and sit with them. We converse among each other, consisting mainly of me answering questions on what Amity was like. I don't tell them about my dogs. It was a hard task to do, considering that my final years in Amity revolved around them. I ask about their lives; apparently, the trio had been inseparable since high school. Skylar mentions that she's seen me around a few times in history class. She asks if I had any friends in Amity, I say no. She's surprised, considering that I seem nice. I shrug in response, leaning against the car for the rest of the ride.

Jace's the one who shakes me awake. My eyes crack open to see that the Dauntless initiates were getting onto their feet. We're near the headquarters. Thanking Jace, I move to stand and pop my neck, following them to the opposite end of the car's opening. The Dauntless members continue to sit on the floor, wishing us good luck. I guessed that there were two ways into the compound, with this method being less favored. The initiates take a running start, with the Dauntless-borns leading the way. I don't pause before following them.

Most of the transfers hesitate, seemingly bewildered and horrified of the concept of doing a dangerous stunt in the only faction known for it. As the initiates leap off the car, I do the same. My eyes flash briefly at the ground as I fall weightless in the air, a large gap between the train tracks and roof. We are a few stories up, mild panic fills my chest. Heights was something I always hated. The fear had developed after I fell off the tree when I was ten. After that, I've always avoided looking down from high buildings. The panic disappears just as fast as it appeared. My hands and knees slam onto gravel, the rocks digging into my palms. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, eyes probably budging in shock.

I made it.


	4. 4

The first thing I notice – other than the fact that we are on a rooftop – is the sun overhead us. Choosing ceremony had ended within two hours, making the time now somewhere around lunch. Even just exiting the train, I can already feel the heat burning through my clothes. As a previous Amity, one would assume that I love the sun. In some ways, I do, but not when it's the highest. I quint at the sun, mentally cursing like it would somehow hear me and disappear.

I glance around me, noting the initiates who're picking themselves up, brushing down their suits and black attire. Four Erudite and three Candor, so eight transfers. There were ten Dauntless-born, which made eighteen initiates in total.

"Initiates!" A voice booms from one end of the roof. I turn to gather at voice, along with everyone else. A man stands at the edge of the building. Blonde hair shaved short at the sides, muscular, hard eyes. I would be a fool to not acknowledge his attractiveness. Are all Dauntless this handsome? "I'm Eric, one of the five leaders of Dauntless." I inwardly cringe. Great. "Below me is the entrance to Dauntless. To enter, you'll have to jump." It takes me a moment to process his words. Belatedly, I realise that behind him was a giant gaping hole. An initiate gulps nervously beside me, I try not to roll my eyes. As sadistic as Eric may be, I highly doubt he would kill us on the first day. "Someone's gotta go first. So, who's it gonna be? Transfer, preferably." At that, he lifts his head from the ground, a smirk on his lips. Eric eyes each transfer menacingly, daring them to step forward. Most of the transfers hunch and look towards the ground in response, trying to make themselves seem smaller – as if we weren't the only ones on the roof. When his eyes land on me, he gives me a once over blinks twice, bewildered. Huh.

I hold my gaze on him, quirking an eyebrow. A moment passes and I wait for him to spit out a snarky remark, only because he seems like the type that would. Nothing. "I will." I speak up, stepping forward. Eric's eyes harden as he nods gruffly, stepping aside to give me space. I don't break eye contact as I move to the ledge, the initiates around me scampering away to make room. Chickens. Taking my place beside the leader, my eyes are still trained on his, just slightly strained up. Slate blue. Eric towers over me, he wasn't particularly a giant, but I wasn't tall either. I'm eye level to his collarbone. Not that it's supposed to matter.

I don't look away, for I didn't want to look down. For some reason, looking at a psychopath was much easier than a black hole, it doesn't help with the fact that the psychopath is unfortunately hot. My world shifts as I lean forward, the force of gravity pulling me down towards the hole. I squeeze my eyes close after Eric's face disappears from my view, my stomach lurching violently at the shift of the weight. I do my best to not think about how I was like Humpty Dumpty, falling to his grave. The scream that was in my throat couldn't force itself out, lodge at the tip of my tongue.Never have I ever felt so heavy, the wind howling as the speed of the fall increases, air resistance doing little to help me. Forcing myself to think happy thoughts – which weren't much at the moment – I tense my arms beside me, to keep them from flailing like a juvenile bird as I dive on my chest.

Then I collide with something hard and elastic, the impact causing me to bounce off the ground only to fall back again. My eyes fly open and I groan, rubbing my face that took their fair share of the impact. As the net stabilises, it tilts to one side, making me roll into a strong pair of sun-kissed arms. The man places me onto my feet, which results in me stumbling slightly before he steadies me again by the shoulders. I look up towards him, a 'thank you' on my tongue. His handsome face is amused, and I immediately flush red. Was there something on my face? My hand goes to my cheeks, feeling for net imprints.

"Eric pushed you?" He asks. I sigh in relief and shake my head. Compared to Eric, this man was lean. Though, there's nothing lean about him, considering that his biceps were two-thirds the size of my face. He wears a plain black tee complete with slacks. "So you volunteered first?" He pries, unconvinced. Snapping out of my ogling session, a smile spreads across my face and I shrug. I don't tell him that I volunteered to escape the heat, deciding to give him the benefit of doubt. "Well then… Name?"

"Anna."

He turns away and shouts, "First Jumper, Anna!" Cheers fill the air, and I realise that we weren't alone. Turning back to me, his voice noticeably softer, "Welcome to Dauntless."

Thanking him, I climb down the platform. It's an open cavern, filled with a unusually large crowd of Dauntless. Either they loved watching initiates fall awkwardly ten stories up, or they just had nothing better to do, I couldn't decide. As I reach the last step down, a girlish scream echoes around the cavern. Another initiate. I move to stand awkwardly in front of the net, some of the members coming up to congratulate me on being the first jumper.

Jace's the third to land. After he's hauled off the net, he practically skips to me. "Hey Anna! Anna!" He shouts over the cheering, as if I wasn't already looking at him the moment he fell from the sky. "See that guy over there?" Jace points at the scrawny Candor boy, the second jumper. I follow his hand at the boy and eye the boy warily, he seems pretty shaken up.

"What about him?"

Jace opens his mouth to respond before bursting into laughter. My brows furrow, confuse as to why a falling Candor is so funny. "Eric." Chuckle. "Threw" More chuckles. "Him off the building!" Jace grips his stomach and bends over, like the information was the funniest thing he's heard in his whole life.

I give him a moment to calm down, glancing back to the boy to find him glaring at us. "What's so funny about that?" I ask.

"You should've seen his face!" The Dauntless-born takes a deep breath and tries to sober up. "After you fell, there was no sound. No screams, no yelps, yeah? So like, Eric asked who wanted to go next, and all of us, reasonably, thought that either you were dead or still falling." Jace eyes flash briefly at a female initiate falling, the Dauntless roar and whoop like they didn't just see the exact thing happening a minute ago. "As expected, no one came forward. You could see the vein in Eric's forehead popping as the time ticked on. I was waiting for him to snap, cause Eric always snaps. And he did! He marched over to the nearest initiate, Mr. Candor over there, grabbed his collar, and dragged him to the hole." At this point, my mouth is puckered like I swallowed something sour. "The Candor was screaming bloody murder the whole way, saying how he didn't want to die." He finishes, amuse.

I turn to the Candor, flashing him a look of sympathy. "Right." I reply pathetically, having no idea what to say. Jace rolls his eyes playfully and turns back to the raining initiates. We fall into a comfortable silence, well, as silent as the Dauntless can be.

* * *

By the time all the initiates have screamed, land, and rolled off the net, my legs ache and my ears burn. The man who caught the initiates gestures for us to gather, a Dauntless woman trailing behind him. "Initiates, listen up!" He shouts, the chatter among us quickly dies off. "Dauntless-born, Lauren will be your instructor." The woman behind him waves briefly before turning around, striding off towards the exit.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" Jace says beside me. I nod as he waves, skipping to his friends and the rest of the Dauntless-born, immediately striking up new conversation. He reminds me of Sabre, always full of energy and cheery, all he needed was deadly skills to match.

After the last of the Dauntless-born exits, the man turns to address us. "My name's Four." He pauses briefly, as if expecting something to happen. The scrawny Candor boy beside me opens his mouth, but it quickly shuts as Four's eyes narrow. Four was an odd name, but I wasn't too bothered about it, mainly because I didn't care. "I normally work in the control room, but for this month of initiation, I am your instructor." Four pauses to take a breath, like he was annoyed he was here. "Now, I'm going to give you a tour around Dauntless. If you dohappen to have a remark, do yourself a favour and keep your mouth shut." He snaps at the end.

My nose flares in amusement as Four turns to where the Dauntless-born had went, not waiting to see if the transfers understood. I decide that I like him.

* * *

The tour around Dauntless was brief. Four showed us the Pit, chasm, training room and dining hall. I suppose he didn't need to show us everything else, only what is needed for us to survive initiation. By the time we reach the dormitory, the only Candor girl looks as pale as a sheet. I guess no one told her that Dauntless doesn't do railings. Four tells us that we'll be sharing the dorm, boys and girls alike. I watch in amusement as the faces of the three girls fall in horror, while the boys exchange lewd smirks. Four quirks an eyebrow at me, seeing that I seem too calm about the news. I shrug my shoulders, giving him a tight lipped smile. He doesn't say anything about it.

"How will we change?" A Erudite girl squeaks meekly.

"With your hands." Four replies monotonously. I bit back a laugh and look at the ceiling, lips pursed. I'm forever grateful for the good relationship between Max and my mother, her access to information has saved me a heart attack.

"And the showers?" The bulky Erudite boy asks, eyes glowing at the obvious answer.

Four glares him down, crossing his arms across his chest. "You would know the answer if you just walk inside." The initiates rush into the dorm, most of them heading to check the open bathroom. I'm the only one who knows the answer, allowing me to have first pick of the bunks. I pick the one nearest the door.

"I would think you would be the one getting the worst end of culture shock." Four says beside me. I lift my head from the chest I opened.

"My mom's an ambassador to Dauntless, I have a few ideas on what everything's like." I say.

If the information shocked Four, he sure didn't show it. "Nice that you came prepared." He replies. Before I can respond, the initiates re-enter the bunks. The Candor girl's pale face had contorted to a sickly green. "There are a set of clothes in the chests, just to help you get started. I would suggest visiting the Pit, there are shops where you can find clothing and other necessities. Some points have been given to you, these replenish by the end of the week, based on your ranks. Training's-"

"Rank?" Another Erudite girl blurts out. Aren't there ranks in Erudite initiation as well...?

"Yes, ranks. I'll explain more tomorrow. Training's from eight to six every day at the training room starting tomorrow, you're free to do whatever after that." Four glances on the clock on a wall. "I would suggest heading to the mess hall now, after you change your clothes of course, it's well past lunch hour." With that, Four exits the room quickly, leaving the initiates in silence.

Grabbing the clothes from the trunk and turning to face the wall, I begin stripping off my shirt. Four was right, it's well past lunch hour, and I'm famished. "Wait, what are you doing?" My head tilts to the sound, it's the scrawny Candor boy.

"Changing." I state.

"In front of all of us?"

"Would you rather I stand behind a pillar?"

"Well urm-"

"Drop it, Mark." A different voice enters, another Candor male. "I'm sure she's done far worse than stripping. I heard Amity likes it all out in the open." I bit back the remark of 'Says the Candor', quickly replacing the brown pants with black ones. I dig out the photo of my dogs and I from my bra, straightening the edges where it became slightly crumpled. The photo is damp from my perspiration, but it isn't damaged too bad. Slipping it under my pillow to keep it hidden, I straighten out my clothes and folded the Amity ones. Beside my trunk was a basket, I assume it's for laundry. Four didn't say anything about the clothes we came in, meaning that we were probably allowed to keep them. Dumping the bright clothes into the basket, I turn and head towards the door, ignoring the stares on my back.

* * *

Even being in the early afternoon, the mess hall is crowded with Dauntless. Climbing down the stairs into the hall, I did a cursory examination of the place. Jace and his friends were huddled together with the rest of the Dauntless born, talking loudly and laughing. I contemplate joining them as I reach for a tray at the buffet line. The food left wasn't much, only a few pieces of chicken, steak and sides. I pick up a few chicken wings and an apple, since dinner was going to be in four hours. Grabbing a bottle of water at the end, I turn to look for a seat. A few tables of Dauntless were eyeing me, some even as bold as to point my direction before whispering amongst each other. I tense my back, deciding to eat at one of the empty tables by myself. Keeping my head held high, I move swiftly to the other end of the mess hall.

"Anna!" Dammit. Jace's waving at me, gesturing for me to join him. If there were Dauntless that didn't notice my presence earlier, they sure did now. I grit my teeth in embarrassment and turn to the Dauntless-born, plastering a fake smile on my lips. I wave away at Jace and point at the empty table I'm heading towards. The brunette frowns at me, face scrunching in confusion.

I continue down to the table, letting out a breath when I reach it without any more interruptions. Slumping into the bench, I pick up my fork and probe the soggy chicken, Dauntless could use a few tips from Amity. "You know, for an Amity, you sure don't act like one." A tray of half eaten food is placed across me, Jace slides into the bench.

"Maybe that's why I transferred." I say dryly, bringing up a chicken to my mouth. The chicken's sweet; not as bad as I thought.

"So, where are the other transfers?" He changes the subject.

I shrug in response, I didn't care about any of them. "Either acting like Stiffs while changing, or getting lost while finding the mess hall."

"You're mean." Skylar laughs, placing her tray next to mine. "I like it." Zack slides across her, nodding his head in greeting.

"They gave you a hard time?" Jace asks, picking up on my distaste.

"They tried to?" The reply sounds more like a question, I wasn't so sure myself.

Skylar huffs, rolling her eyes. "Transfers, always so hostile among each other. It's getting old pretty quick."

"I am hostile," I state blatantly. "and a transfer."

"You are." She replies, shoving a spoonful of mash potatoes in her mouth. "Yeah, well, you're a different kind of hostile. It's kinda funny." I grimace, I suppose it's a compliment. I think.

The rest of lunch passes by quickly. At one point, the rest of the transfers had trickled in. We watch as their faces fall at the lack of food left, sniggering when one of the girls tried charming one of the boys to hand over some steak. Didn't work. The girl was trying to sway the bulky Erudite; he wasn't amused.

With my tray empty, I tell them that I'll be heading back to my dorms for a nap, due to the lack of things to do. Skylar asks if I want to go shopping at the Pit after dinner, saying how I need more clothes. As much as I am tired from the excessive amount of human interaction, I begrudgingly agree; she has a point.

Heading back to my dorm alone, I finally allow my shoulders to relax. My head pounds slightly from the events of today, it's hard to believe that it was merely eight hours ago when I was still back in Amity. Arriving at the dorms, I slip out of my red tennis shoes, suddenly registering how stupid I must've looked with them. I pull off the pants and slip under the thin blankets, sleep immediately engulfing me.

* * *

By the time I wake, it's almost dinner time. I look around to see that none of the other bunks seem different when I arrived, meaning that they must've been out at the Pit. Shrugging on my pants and retying my hair, I walk back to the dining hall, my head still pounding.

The dining hall is brimming with people as I enter. I scan the room and sigh when I realise that there weren't any empty tables. Piling on some stir-fried vegetables and a roasted chicken thigh, I move to sit beside Skylar. The transfers were a few tables down from me, all eating quietly in awkward silence. Four's at the end of that table, shovelling food with a vengeance. I think about whether I should join him, but ultimately decide against it.Having two conversations doesn't makes us friends. The Dauntless-born chatter loudly amongst themselves, laughing at chucking food at each other. This time, Skylar and Jace don't make an effort to talk to me, both deeply engage in hearing a story about a patrol member freaking out over a drifting plastic bag. I'm grateful, finally allowed time to myself without needing to converse. I don't dislike them, but I don't like socialising, dogs were much easier to be with.

My mind drifts to my dogs, wondering how they are coping when my parents arrived home without me. Perhaps they were fine, since Johanna will now be keeping them at her office, to take their minds off things. I worry my lip as I think about how my dogs will react as the days go by. They have never been separated from me for more than a day, ever since they came out of their incubation pods. Belgian Malinois and German Shepherds are breeds who often face separation anxiety. They are, after all, breeds prized for their unrelenting loyalty.

It's the deafening sound of hundreds of banging cups that pulls me out of my thoughts. Looking around confused, Jace nudges me and points ahead. There on the balcony stands Max, head leader of Dauntless. Flaking him is Eric and another female leader, all three of them have block tattoos that go down their necks, disappearing underneath their collar.

The cups die down when Max lifts up a hand. "Initiates! You have chosen the warrior faction, and we welcome you." I zone out of his speech, no doubt it's the same one he says every year. Max drones on about the meaning of becoming Dauntless member, I feel like I should be paying attention, but I can't muster the will to. The transfers in front of me are beaming, eyes full of excitement, while Jace and the rest of the Dauntless-born are clinging onto every word he says, their posture speaks pure reverence for the head Dauntless.

I turn back to Max, he's reciting the Faction manifesto, accentuating his voice to dramatize what everyone learned since primary school. Beside him, Eric stares straight at me. I'm suddenly struck with how he looks similar to the man at the fence. Short hair, muscular build, sleeveless vest. My eyebrows furrow as I quint. There was no way. Why would Eric be at the fence? The young leader's gaze is unwavering, as if he's staring straight into my soul. My heart picks up, I break eye contact. I turn back to my food the moment Max's speech finishes. Something churns uncomfortably inside me. I don't want to associate myself with Eric, he screams bad news. I pray that the man at the fence was just someone who looked like him. Dauntless is full with muscular men, right?

* * *

Skylar brings me to the Pit, pointing out various stores and the items they sell. She talks animatedly, waving her hands as she points at various outfits. I can't relate with her, especially when it came to clothes. Is this what a girl is supposed to be like? Back in Amity, I had identical sets of clothes: red pleated knee length skirts and mustard shirts mostly. I never saw the reason to waste time picking and choosing what to wear each day, it was and still is: impractical. Nonetheless, I still nod and grin at the bordering insane, Dauntless girl. She tries to shove skirts and various blouses at me, but I tell her that I'm still in training, making these clothes more of a liability than anything. She pouts and agrees, telling me that I'm safe till the physical stage is over, which is in two weeks. Finally having a say in my own clothes, I pick out a few plain tank tops, V-neck t-shirts and multiple pairs of plain capris leggings.

"You're boring" Skylar moans, waving around some intricately designed capris, this one has cut outs at the calves. Seeing that they weren't too far-fetched, I trade some of the plain ones for it. I also pick out a new pair of black tennis shoes, complete with a white outlining, as well as some sports bra and underwear. The cashier docks more than half of my points, eyeing the simple clothes in mild disappointment. Skylar seizes the moment to complain about my choice in clothing, having found someone to relate with; I roll my eyes.

By the time I arrive back to the dorms, my hands burn with protest with the bags of clothes and basic necessities I'm holding. I'm left with a quarter of points, should be enough to last through the week. Most of the transfers are already in the dorm, sitting on each other's bunks and talking excitedly. I put my clothes away and grab some items for a shower, already tired.

I shower by myself, the water lukewarm. As I reach my bed with my hair dried, my eyes are already half-closed. I don't remember if anyone came up to speak to me, if they did, I probably ignored them. I was out like a light the moment I pull the covers over me.

* * *

**A/N**

**Slightly longer chapter today. Anna's pretty different here in Dauntless, its quite amusing. **


	5. 5

I'm the first one to wake. My eyes crack open to only be greeted by darkness. Glancing at the clock on the wall, which is thankfully illuminated at the edges, it reads 7am. I had woken with the sun, just like back in Amity.

_An hour till training._ Pulling the covers off me, my body is hit with unnaturally cold temperatures. I reach for my nose to find it slightly numb.I hate the cold.The fact that Dauntless was underground had slipped my mind, I don't know why the fact that it's freezing surprises me.

It's moments like these that I miss Gunner, I never had a problem with the cold at night since he was always my leg warmers. At the thought of my dogs, I reach for the photograph under my pillow, grimacing when I creased it even more during my sleep. Moving silently to the edge of my bed, I tuck the image deep inside the trunk.

My hands freeze when water touches them. I brush my teeth quicker than I ever had before, rubbing my eyes in attempt to shake off the sleep. Creeping out in the dormitory, I fold my arms tightly around me, teeth clattering. I know my nose is red, just like it was minutes ago in front of the mirror. The temperature in the dining hall is just as cold as I woke. It is mostly empty, saving me from embarrassment, with a few members and Dauntless-born initiates eating breakfast before heading off to start their day. I blink a few times as I notice that all of them wear either sleeveless or short-sleeved clothes. Stupid Amity, stupid temperatures.

Settling with an apple, I walk off to the direction of the training room, hoping that running will help warm me up. I make a mental note to get warmer clothes tonight, the tank top and leggings I'm wearing makes me might as well go naked.

Four and Eric are the only ones in the training room when I enter, having a heating argument over something. Their eyes snap to me when they hear the door close. Four lifts an eyebrow at my entrance while Eric merely stares – all he seems to do lately. Eric's eyes trail down my form, looking amused at how I hug myself. "Apple-picker." He greets simply, his argument with Four long forgotten. I blink. Heat rises to my face as I glance at the half eaten apple in my hand. I don't respond, since I would probably blurt out something unintelligent if I tried. I take a bite of the apple instead, praying that the apple's skin would dull the colour in my cheeks and nose.

Four, noticing the awkward silence and realising that he can no longer converse privately with Eric, asks irritably. "Are the rest eating breakfast?"

"Urm." I swallow, clenching my jaw to will my teeth not to clatter. The tip of Eric's mouth curls to a smirk, finding joy in my struggle. "They were still asleep when I left."

Four stares at me for a second then rubs his face. He mumbles incoherent curses about transfers under his breath. "Stay here." He says already stomping out of the door, not before picking up a crowbar. The clock above the door reads 7:45am. _Ah_.

Dread suddenly fills me as Four's words sink in, I open my mouth to protest but the door slams shut before I can utter a word. I keep my eyes on the door longingly, the idea of heading out to follow him floating around my mind mockingly.

Counting to ten, I suck a deep breath and turn to face the young leader, only to find him across the room with his back towards me, fiddling with some equipment. Maybe being alone with him wasn't the worst thing in the world.

I spoke too soon.

"Apple-picker, tree-hugger or flower-sniffer?"

"What?" I say dumbly, mouth full of apple.

"Choose." He replies, his back still towards me.

I move to throw the apple core in the bin, deciding that a run would definitely warm me up. "Anna." I say.

"So she has a name." He pauses for what I assume is for dramatic effect, or that he's thinking. "Though, that wasn't one of the options" He drawls. I stretch out the muscles in my legs, then bend down to touch my toes. "I think…" He starts back up, turning towards me and leaning against the table behind him. I narrow my eyes at him, stretching my arms as he stares. "I like all, the ones I suggested of course."

Huffing, a scowl etches on my face. Eric grins widely at my reaction, his lips pull back to reveal two rows of illegally straight white teeth. "Whatever." My legs start moving, falling into a rhythm that I'm used to before I transferred.

It's only when I pass him does he speak up again, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "Don't like it?" He says, I don't look back at him.

"It doesn't matter." It's the truth. Self-sufficiency is a part of the Amity manifesto, I learned from a young age to not care of what people thought of me.

* * *

Four comes back in with a scowl on his face to match. He chucks the crowbar to the side, eyeing Eric's grin and my face suspiciously. He doesn't ask about what transpired when he was gone, I don't think I want to tell him if he did. I complete a circuit around the room, the light exercise doing it's trick on warming my body up.I should do this more often.Slowing down, I move the where Four stands looking at a bunch of papers.

I feel it before I hear it. The floor rumbles as heavy footfalls lands, my eyebrows rise to my forehead as I hear the transfers running. They enter the room breathless. 8:02am. Most of the boys have their hair still sticking up in random directions, giving away the fact that they were only asleep minutes ago. The girls don't look much better, hair in messy ponytails and faces pale. I turn away from them, cringing at their tardiness. Eric had moved to stand beside Four, arms crossed and chest puffed out, the smile replaced by a sneer.

The young leader reminds me of Gunner, when he tries to intimidate the cobras in Amity. Between the dog and snake, it's always stare down, both too prideful to back off. Except, these transfers aren't venomous snakes, and Eric isn't trying to prove he's the bigger Alpha male. He _is_ the Alpha male.

"Nice of you to finally make it." He snarls. The transfers look everywhere but him. Some turn to glare at me, as if being early was now a crime. I school my features to feign indifference, deciding that Eric's glowering is much more tolerable than the rest of my initiation batch. A moment of expected silence passes, no one daring to speak up or make an excuse. After a while longer, Eric nods once to Four, who's been standing stoically through the exchange.

Taking a deep breath, Four waves us to follow him to the long table Eric was leaning against earlier. The table held handguns, all laid out neatly in a row, complete with a box of ammo on the side. "First thing you'll learn is how to take apart one of these." He picks up a gun and holds it high for all to see. "Then you'll learn how to shoot." He then proceeds to pick the gun apart, the transfers rush forward when they realise that he had started the demonstration. I stand to the side, watching his swift skilled movements. Eric's on my left, arms still folded. I try not to fidget. Even silent, his brooding presence still screams danger.

When Four finishes, he steps away for us to practice. I don't hesitate, Eric's presence has been making me apprehensive. Picking up the gun, I turn it over my hand and weigh it. It was definitely heavier than it looks. I now understand why they come with holsters, my pants would fall off without them. Other than it's weight, the parts of the gun are somewhat familiar to the images of the book I read up about them. Facing the muzzle of the gun away from me, I feel for the magazine release, a small button at the handle. Finding it, I push down; the magazine drops into my awaiting palm.

"Are the rest of you deaf?" Eric booms. My face twitches, but I somehow manage to suppress laughter down. I glance at Four who has his eyes on the wall. I'm not sure if he's trying to hold back laughter, or finds the grey-stained walls interesting. The initiates scramble to the table, some having to move as the stations nearest to them fills up. The bulky Erudite boy stands next to me, grabbing the gun like he's done this before. I'm only halfway through pulling out spring and he's already done. Eric moves down the line, grunting in approval as he eyes the dissembled gun of the Erudite. The boy smirks and stares straight at me. I don't react, not giving him the satisfaction of my shock. Instead, I pretend to not notice, continuing as before. Four's further down the line helping, face irritated when one of the girls manage to get the barrel stuck. I would be irritated too.

I repeat the process of assembling and dissembling the gun over and over, my arms aching from being held up so long. The Erudite does the same, only faster. He waits for the moment I start before he does, the sly smirk appearing each time he places the gun with an audible thump, each time seconds faster than me. My eye twitches in annoyance. _Don't. React._

When Four tells us to break, my arms are about to fall off. Mark drops the gun onto the table, sighing in relief. Eric snaps at him, making the rest of us slowly lay it down. I shake out my arms as Four moves to a target. He explains his posture briefly before turning to fire thrice, all dead centre. This time, everyone immediately grabs their box of ammo, moving to the vacant targets. I'm forced to choose a place among the middle, the sides filling up first. The sickly Candor girl on my right and a boy on my left. I fill the magazine with the bullets, taking it slow since there isn't a rush. I practice my posture before I fire, rehearsing Four's advice in my head. The Candor girl shoots; it seems accidental. The recoil makes her stumble back, tripping over her feet and landing like a heap. My ears ring and I briefly wonder how I'm supposed to get used to this.

The first shot I make hits the outer-most ring; I cringe. The recoil isn't too bad, so long as I relax my muscles. Tilting my gun higher, I try again. This time, it hits the third closest ring. It takes me one entire magazine before I'm able to hit in the centre ring. I smile in victory, my first true accomplishment of the day – since I kind of knew how to dissemble a gun beforehand. The girl beside me continues to struggle, only two of her shots hitting the target.

Did she not listen to Four at all?

I hear Eric snapping at one of the boys and make the split second decision to help her.

"Your shoulders are too tense." I start awkwardly, I wasn't used to helping people verbally, mostly through actions, like in Amity. The girl looks at me perplex. I stifle a sigh and move towards her, gripping her shoulders and repositioning her arms. "Try again." She shoots before I have time to step back, making my ears pop from how close I am to her gun. I look away to glare at the target. She hits the fourth inner ring. Thanking me, I wave her off and stride back to my station, refilling the magazine.

Eric passes us as I'm pushing the magazine into the well. He doesn't say anything to the Candor girl, who's now consistently hitting the target. It's at that moment I wonder why I helped her.

An Amity trait?

After another thirty minutes of shooting, Four gives us a short break before moving onto the punching bags. He shows us the proper way to throw a punch, pointing out mistakes that are commonly made. I mostly zone out through his lecture, since I already knew how to fight. Eric left after the shootings, not before yelling at a few more people. The air became much lighter the moment he step through the door. I was watching Four as the leader left, his shoulders immediately sag.

There is definitely bad blood between those two.

The rest of training went by quickly, some of the initiates gathering some guts to ask if their form is right. The wimpy Candor girl sticks by my side, I don't know if I like it.

* * *

When lunch hour comes, I sit by myself – exhausted and tired. I'm about to enjoy my peace and quiet when the Candor girl moves to sit across me. The twitching in my eye can't be stopped. "Hi! Erm, thanks for helping me earlier…" She trips over her words; I do my best to stare blankly. Her voice is high-pitched and makes my ears burn.

Just what I needed.

"I'm Riley." She settles, running out of coherent words to form. Her eyes are hazel and too big on her sharp face. She has a small nose and thin lips. I suppose she could pull off as looking cute. Her hair is tied in a neat ponytail, jet black as it reflects off the dim lights of the mess hall.

"Anna." I start shovelling food in my mouth, a hint for her to stop talking, or better yet: leave.

She does neither. "So you practice beforehand or something?" She asks. I can't tell if she implying target practice or bag-punching; I don't bother to ask.

"No, not really. I just-" I swallow thickly, catching a sarcastic remark at the last moment. '_Listened to Four_' my mind finishes for me. I clear my throat. "I read briefly that relaxing your shoulders when shooting eases the recoil."

"I didn't know Amity people read." Crap; I've said too much. She seems genuinely curious though; my eye twitches again.

"Just because we pick apples all day, doesn't mean that we're illiterate." I point my fork at her. Her cheeks turn red in embarrassment. "Plus, I only skimmed through the book, I kinda knew I was going to join Dauntless much earlier." I add quickly, dropping my gaze to continue with my food. The Candors are perceptive, one long look at me and they might be able to tell I'm lying. I don't know if the girl is bright, but I don't want to find out.

She seems to eat my words, going back to her own food. My shoulders sag in relief.

* * *

**A/N**

**This app likes to mess with me, the format messes up when I transfer the text :D** **Including this A/N **

**This chapter was pretty funny to write. Hope you enjoyed it! **


	6. 6

"Your rankings will be based on your progress and fights, which starts in two days." Eric rejoins us after lunch, his face hard. "Dauntless only has a limited amount of space, therefore, we will only be taking in the top fifteen from initiation. Yes, this means that you'll be ranked with the Dauntless-born together." My fist rests on my mouth.

How much of an advantage do the Dauntless-born already have?

A boy lifts his hand up like we're in primary school – my points are on him being a former Erudite. "Yes?" The Dauntless leader eyes flash in expected irritation.

"But there are twenty initiates in total." The boy squeaks.

Eric lifts an eyebrow. "So?"

"What happens to those below fifteen?" Perhaps the lack of intelligence was the reason why he transferred.

The leader lifts a shoulder nonchalantly, like the news doesn't and shouldn't faze anyone. "They become factionless."

Gasps immediately fills the air. My face contorts to a wince, not at the news, but at the fact that I could've been them. "Why weren't we told this before?" An Erudite girl rasps in horror, the rest murmuring in agreement. Eric looks at me. He only grows more and more frustrated, which he definitely has the right to. Though, we wouldn't be in this situation if he didn't implement the stupid rule. Four stands near the punching bags across the room, face hidden as he reads through some papers. I give Eric a tight-lipped smile, which makes his brows furrow slightly, something other than malice filling his features. "Urm, Eric?"

The man snaps back to the girl, eyes narrowing. "New system." He says simply. "Unless you're aiming for below fifteen, I don't see what's there to worry about." Riley moves closer to me for comfort, her face turning to a familiar green. I regard her cautiously and take a small step back. Her lunch is probably only moments away from resurfacing. Four coughs, he's looking at me with a fist covering his mouth. "Any more questions before I continue?" Eric asks a little to sweetly. No one moves. "Good. Now, training will be divided into three stages: Physical, Emotional, Mental. Physical will last for two weeks, emotional will be a week and a half, and mental is the remaining. The cuts will be at the end of the physical and mental stages. Three and two respectively." With that, Eric leaves the room, not once looking back.

After the briefing, Four takes over. We spend the day learning about fighting techniques, an exercise I'm familiar with. I'm partnered with the Erudite girl who questioned the leader, the fittest among the three girls. I don't doubt that Four paired everyone based on their skill level; I'm grateful. The Erudite girl has dirty blonde hair. Her earlobes are also red, the maroon studs complimenting the soreness. The girl picks up on the techniques quickly, but she has yet to be able to take me down. I'm mostly on defensive, working on dodging her blows. She fast, but not as fast as my dogs. At one point she asks if we should swap roles, I tell her that it's fine. I see no reason to hurt her, and I don't, especially since this session isn't being scored.

By the time the clock reaches six, I'm cradling my head with a hand. My head spins from having to duck and twist for the past few hours. Four releases us, all the initiates heading out of the door while I stay behind to grab some water.

"You're expected to fight in two days." Four says. He holds his stack of papers against his chest, arms folded around it.

I rub my temple to ease the headache rising. Lifting the metal cup to my lips, I reply before taking sip. "I know."

His jaw ticks at my short response. "Your Amity roots are holding you back, continue on the defensive and you may become factionless."

I stare at Four. His statement angers me, for he had no idea what he's talking about. But above all, I don't understand his concern for me – if I assume that his intentions are pure. I am, after all, just another initiate. "I'll keep that in mind." I say stiffly, turning back to wash the cup and then placing it on the drying rack.

The instructor sighs heavily, rubbing his face like he's speaking to a stubborn child; perhaps I am one_. _His frustration is unsurprising, my lack of emotion and bluntness would put anyone off. He turns towards the door, taking a step past the threshold. "Well then, good luck."

* * *

The dining hall is just as crowded and deafening as yesterday. Scooping up some pasta and a blueberry muffin, I make my way to Riley. Between the rowdy Dauntless-born and the sickly girl, Riley would give me the silence I crave. Well, I hope she would.

The girl was dumbstruck when I drop my plate in front of her. I don't waste a moment before digging in, not looking at the Candor to discourage her from speaking up.

At one point of me gobbling down my spaghetti, the dining hall goes silent. I crane my neck to the door in curiosity. Eric stands at the entrance, giving the place a cursory glance. His eyes stop at my direction briefly, but that could just be my imagination. "This always happens when he enters." A male voice whisper beside me. My body jerks violently at the unexpected intrusion, knees knocking onto the table. I groan in pain, no doubt a bruise already forming. Jace sits beside me, his food half eaten. I glare at him as he puts up his hands defensively. I'm not sure how long he's been sitting beside me. Skylar and Zack are still with the rest of Dauntless-born; their conversations starting back up.

"Right." Riley is staring between me and him rapidly, her brain trying to put the puzzle pieces together; whatever they are.

"Are you-" She starts.

My mouth immediately moves to intercept her. "This is Riley." I introduce, plastering a smile for good measure. Jace's face brightens as he introduces himself. The pair immediately kicks off in conversation; Riley glad to finally have someone to ramble to. Taking it as my cue, I excuse myself, grabbing my tray and disposing the wastes.

I spend the first part of the evening at the Pit. Remembering the absurd temperatures at night, I pick out a zip-up maroon hoodie with the Dauntless symbol in white at the back. I also buy another blanket and a pair of ear plugs, for future target practices. The cashier informs me that I've ran out of points for the week; I pray that I won't need anything else.

Making a detour to the dorms to drop off my items, I head back to the training room. The clock only reads 8:30pm, which is still early enough to hang out with friends, but I really rather not socialize. The training room is just as empty as I left it, flicking on a single light in the middle of the room, I start jogging in a steady pace.

I think about my dogs, like I always does when I'm alone. My heart squeezes in my chest. I miss them. Flashes of my dogs playing in the fields cross my mind, Hawk and Sabre wrestling each other on the grass. Sabre would always win, with him being bigger, faster, and stronger. The only time Hawk ever wins is when we move through the trees. The sandy dog will jump on me as leverage before running up the tree. Most of the time when that happens, Hawk will bark at me as a heads-up, otherwise I will suffer a scratch from being knocked into the ground face-first. Sabre gets pretty frustrated when Hawk does that, considering that the he has only mastered fence leaping. Sabre and Hawk are inseparable, both of them bring out the puppy side of each other.

How would they adapt to life here at Dauntless? There are no railings and a slip could result in them plummeting to their deaths. Dread begins to fill me as I realized that my plan wasn't as thought-out as it should be.

Would Max even agree for me to import the dogs over? I've yet to see a single animal here walking around in the Dauntless compound. I can't figure out if that's because pets are banned or people just don't want them.

_No._

I shake my head, an attempt to rid my thoughts. Thinking about the dogs and all the ways everything can screw over makes me depressed, and I didn't come to Dauntless to be depressed. My legs start to burn from running and I suddenly feel stuffy. I strip off my tank top, leaving me in my sports bra. The removed material makes the air cold around my abdomen and chest. It'll do.

Focusing on the burning sensation on my legs, I continue to complete circuit upon circuit, one step over the next. More than an hour had passed since I started, a fine sheen of sweat coats my body. I wipe my face, the tank top in my hand damp.

"Training ended four hours ago." A voice rumbles around the room.

I jump out of my skin, immediately recognizing the owner. I nearly collided at a table as I skid to a stop, heart beating even faster than it has been. When did he even enter?"Eric." Amazingly, my voice is even.

"Tree-hugger." I don't turn to look at him, choosing to head to the water dispenser. I'm not sure if it's because I'm afraid to see his face, or that I'm afraid that he'll see mine – panicked and red. "Why are you here?" There's a shuffle of footsteps.

My grip on the cup tightens in my hand as I fill it with water. I click off the faucet and finally turn to face him, feeling slightly calmer. Eric stands below the light, saving me from the embarrassment of having to locate him in the dark. His arms are crossed and he wears his sleeveless vest. The handsome leader has an eyebrow quirked up, his microdermals reflecting off the fluorescent beams. "Running." I bring the cup to my lips; the water tastes sweet.

His eyes don't hold the hostility during training, but I can't place what he's thinking. He hums in response. "You know…" His eyebrow smooths down. "You're the first initiate I've come across who trains after hours." Eric's voice is deep and rich, something that I could listen for hours, regardless of what he's saying.

I enter the light, stopping a few feet in front of him. Eric scans my outfit in less than a second before locking his gaze on mine. How_ honorable. _

Perhaps he's taken; the possibility makes my stomach churn irritatingly. "I'm glad I'm making an impression then." I say. Eric cocks his head to the side, he looks just like the man on the fence. I blink a few times. The Erudite in me reasons again that a leader doesn't have any reason to be at the fence. But still, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Which leads me to believe that, you're doing more than just running." The gears in his head shifts, calculating. I straighten my spine to stifle my surprise; he notices. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying to forget something."

My face tenses before it can go slack in shock.

Eric, a person I've only spoken twice to, has already worked out the reasons behind my actions. Either this man is truly ingenious or very observant – which I highly doubt since he knows pretty much nothing about me.

I don't break his gaze. On one hand, I want to snap that it's none of his business; but on the other, I want to confide with someone about all the sorrow that's been building up ever since I left the ones I love. A wave of despair flows through me.

I miss my dogs_. _

Most of my time in Dauntless was spent reminiscing about all the moments I had with them: the training, the playing, the chasing, the hugging, the sleeping. These dogs mean everything, and I left them. Nothing was ever enough to keep me from thinking about the four-legged trio; not shopping, not eating, not showering, not training. My mind continuously betrays me as it strays back to my past. My heart clenches painfully at the thought of my dogs providing me comfort in situations like these. But they're not here.

So, my body does the next best thing: cry. My eyes start stinging and I look away. I suddenly regret grabbing the cup of water, because it prevents me from making a speedy escape. Eric's still staring; I no longer know what he's thinking. Anger? Concern? Disgust? I wait for him to reprimand me for still clinging on to my old faction, but he doesn't. Yet, I want him to. I want him to force me to stop missing them, to stop thinking about them.

Screw it, I'll bring the cup back tomorrow_. _

I side step around him to move get to the door, but he shoots out with hands large enough that they encircle the width of my forearm. He doesn't turn to face me, his front facing the opposite direction as me. A moment passes between us, I don't move to speak up, neither does he. Finally, he sighs, at the loss for words. Loosening his grip, I dash out the training room with tears glistening. I'm glad he didn't speak, for I don't think I could've held it in if he did. I don't look back.

I spend the night wrapped up in my hoodie and new blanket like a cocoon, the other blanket added for good measure. That night I dream about my dogs and the fields – a life I left behind.

* * *

**A/N**

This is a short one, I'm sorry. I was supposed to update this and the next one together, but it's pretty late and I have a speech tomorrow :'D

I'm also sorry that I went MIA for a few days. I was on vacation with my graduating class and thought that I could still edit and post :P

I can't post in advance even though I wrote the chapters already, usually I go through it again and add content so it isn't so choppy (like this one) but anyways, I should be able to focus on the story after tomorrow, once I'm done with my speech.

I got cut in my foot really badly when I was out in the sea. It looks like it's getting infected but I think it's only the skin that's still there that's causing it. I would like to thank my dogs for biting me earlier this year, cause I don't need to worry about tetanus atm.


	7. 7

My opponent is Mark. I squint at the chalkboard, recognizing no other name except Riley. She's up against a guy named Cole; I don't think she'll win.

It's the first day of the fights. We spent the morning at the rooftop, the handguns swapped for rifles. I wasn't particularly good at firearms, but at least I wasn't the worst. Yesterday was uneventful, Eric didn't appear during training at all; not that it matters of course. Four showed us more fighting techniques on the bags and on each other; I continued on defensive. I couldn't care less for what the instructor thought. Last night, I still went back to the training room; not just to forget, but also as an act of stubbornness. No one was going to stop me from doing what I want, especially not Eric.

So here we are, huddled together as we find our opponents. My match is the last, while Riley's the second. Eric makes an appearance for the fights.

He probably enjoys watching us get our asses handed to us.

He's as brooding as he always is: chest puffed and arms crossed, the block tattoos on his neck proudly on display. He calls up the first pair, the two Erudite girls. They nervously move to the center of the ring, a round beam of fluorescent light illuminating their forms. The girl I've been paired with during sparring sessions now has red velvet hair to match her earrings. It provides a good contrast to her pale complexion. She pulls her hair into a bun and shakes out her arms. _Smart. _Her opponent is a bronze-skin girl with curly hair, a few inches taller than me. The girl seems slightly anxious on having to fight her friend, rubbing her arms and scratching her neck. I wonder if Red would take advantage of her hesitation. The mat below them doesn't look as soft as I hope, so it'll probably hurt to take a fall.

"Some ground rules." Eric says, his voice demanding the attention of everyone. "Other than don't kill each other, the match stops when one of you can't continue." Four's silent beside him, distain is clear on his face as he reads blank papers. That's something I can relate to.

None of the initiates question him, but Riley turns into her iconic green. "Go." The match starts. I move to stand next to Riley, smiling comfortingly as if it'll ease her worry. The initiates watch the first fight unfold, which consists of the girls circling each other. I observe the instructors instead, knowing that their reactions were far more riveting that what the girls had to offer. Eric snaps at them at one point, telling them that if they wanted to walk in circles, they should've gone to a merry-go-round. I force my fist into my mouth to keep from laughing. The girls blush in embarrassment.

The fight ends with Red as the victor. Ruby, her name is. I should've guessed it the moment I saw her earrings. Ruby drags the unconscious girl out of the mat with Four, her nose dripping with blood. Disgusting.

"Riley and Cole." Eric announces. I pat the pale girl's back, telling her to give her best. She barely nods, stumbling over to the mat. Cole's the bulky Erudite. He sneers at her, making her cower. My face scrunches to a scowl. The moment Eric gives the signal, Cole doesn't delay to throw a fist to Riley's face. The girl squeaks as she registers his incoming punch, only managing to dodge it because she fell on her ass. Riley crawls away as Cole lunges for her. I'm proud that she successfully dodges two hits, even though unintentional. When she gets back on her feet, the both of them start playing a game of cat and mouse. Though, Riley is a horrible mouse. Within a minute she gets tripped, landing heavily onto the mat and yelping. Cole immediately takes advantage of the situation, sending a kick to her ribs. Riley, understandably, screams.

I should bring along my earplugs during fights too.

Cole doesn't stop, he continues to send blows to her ribs and stomach. A flash of hot anger flares through me and my eyes narrow.

He's definitely doing this on purpose.

Cole of all people knows the methods to knock a person out, yet he continues to prolong the pain.

Eventually, Riley passes out, indicated by the halted screams. I should go help the battered girl off the mat, but I can't. All I see is red. Blood rushes to my head while Four hauls the girl to the side, ordering Ruby to bring her to the infirmary. Riley's right eye is swelling, a large blue-black spot on her cheek from the final kick. Every muscle in me tenses as Cole moves off the mat with a bounce to his step. His companions are patting him on the back in congratulations. Eric turns to look at me and I can't stop myself from glaring back at him.

This is his_ fault__. _If it weren't for his stupid rules, Riley would be right here standing, maybe only sporting a bruise here and there.

The next fight takes slightly longer, since the boys were evenly matched. Ruby returns without Riley; I'm glad she's getting the help she needs.

As the boys' fight edges towards the end, I start taking deep breaths. I need a clear mind if I'm going to fight. I do my best to ignore the blood that's spilled all over the mats. Everything's too brutal. By the time one of them gets knocked out, I'm slightly calmer. Cole drags the more injured guy off the mats and to the infirmary – orders from Eric. As much as I am still pissed at the sadistic leader, I'm grateful that he got that wretch out of my sight.

"Apple-picker and Mark." I climb onto the mat, grimacing at all the blood around me. Mark has a smirk on his face. Does he actually think that he can beat me?I cock my head and quirk an eyebrow. I decide that I don't like him. "Go."

Mark, much like Cole, immediately throws a punch to my face. I easily side-step away from him, making him stumble forward from the lack of contact. There wasn't much of an audience, just the instructors, Ruby, and the guy who just won. _Good. _Mark continues to throw punches and horribly-aimed kicks, all of which I duck or side-step easily. His actions are far worse than when I trained the dogs when they were puppies. At least they were slightly faster and less stupid-looking. Mark leaves his entire body unguarded, too frustrated at his futile efforts to see that he's leaving himself open. I don't seize the opportunity; I need to burn energy anyways. At one point I manage to sneak a glance at the instructors, Eric is impatient while Four seems worried.

"Fucking bitch." Mark curses out, clearly exhausted. I blink a few times before my eyes harden.

After all that I've...

My arm pulls back automatically and I aim a clenched fist towards his face, irritated with his pathetic hits and attitude. Perhaps taking out my anger on him isn't so bad, he is clearly no better than Cole.

One punch, and I'll break his nose.

My lips quirk at the thought. I send it forward, my fist coming at such a speed that Mark doesn't have time to block or dodge.

He squeezes his eyes shut, accepting his fate. It's that moment of weakness that stops me in my tracks. Maybe it was the fact that he looks like Riley moments ago: hopeless and afraid. My fist stops short millimeters from his nose.

I am not Cole.

My hand falls away quickly as my breathing starts to pick up. I am not Cole; I am not Cole_. _Mark opens his eyes in confusion, realizing that the impact didn't come. I stumble away from him, eyes blinking. He yells out in fury as he launches to me, another amateur punch coming towards me. Instead of moving out of the way, I merely twist myself and grab his arm, yanking him forward. He loses balance, the way he throws his weight around becoming his downfall. My free hand reaches out and chops his neck, right at the carotid sinus. My opponent's eyes instantly roll back and I catch him before he slams into the mat. The whole ordeal lasted less than three seconds, though it felt like minutes.

With Mark passed out on the ground, panic suddenly fills me. I stagger off the mat, knees going weak. The sound of my increasing heartbeat pounds into my ears. I was so close to losing control. Strong arms catch me right before my legs give out.

Four.He's saying something to me, but no words enter my ears, only the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I almost lost control and I knew that if I had, Mark would be in a far worse state than Riley. I sag against Four as he drags me to the ground, my mind unable to form any thoughts other than fear. I'm lying on my back, yet my head still spins. I clench and unclench my hands, both of them clammy and too icky for my liking. Four's blurry face enters field of vision, his mouth still moving with no sound coming out. My lungs struggle to suck in air – as if someone placed me in a vacuum. I almost lost it.

Eric's the next one to enter my vision, he shoves Four off by his shoulders, barking off what I assume are orders by the way his face turns a very noticeable shade of red. He turns back and grips my face in his large hands, lightly slapping at the sides.

* * *

"Tree-hugger! Tree-hugger!" I blink a few times as I focus on the man. "Hey! Hey! Keep your eyes on me. Get back here." The slate blue in his eyes are barely noticeable, his pupils completely blown out. His eyes are wide and wild, darting all around my face. He continues to call me 'tree-hugger', his voice getting more rushed and alarmed as each second passes where I don't response. Panic is an odd emotion on him, I don't know if I like it. Maybe I do, Eric's kind of cute when he isn't glaring. The person of subject shakes my shoulders, which seems to do the trick as I knock out of my daze. I take a deep breath and jolt up, air rushing into my lungs again. "For fuck's sake, don't you ever do that again." I feel around my neck, the pressing force dissipating already. I cradle my head in my hands as I moan, a headache already forming. _Heck._

After taking a few more deep breaths, I register that I'm still in the training room. My head shoots up to scan the place, causing a sharp pain. The training room is deserted. When did everyone leave? I turn Eric and find him kneeling beside me, still looking slightly flustered. "Thanks." I grunt. I feel gross and dirty from being drenched in my tank top of sweat. Definitely in need a shower.

"I think I get why other flower-sniffers don't transfer to Dauntless, are they all like you?" Eric says exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair. The mess he made only makes him look hotter.

"Like what?" His question can be interpreted in a few ways.

"Freaking out after hurting someone." He says flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

My eyebrows furrow. After hurting someone? What's he going on about? I take a moment to recall the events that led up to this, rubbing my temples as my head still pounds_. _

I suppose from their perspective, it did seem like I had a panic attack after knocking Mark out. "I wasn't freaking out over knocking Mark out." I say quietly. "He deserved it." I add a bit too harshly.

"Then?" He tilts his head to one side, completely perplexed.

"I was panicking because I almost lost control." I don't know why I tell him that. The revelation probably seems weak in his eyes, since he never stopped any of the fights. "I didn't want to be like Cole."

Now it's Eric's turn to frown. He opens his mouth, contemplating on saying something, but ultimately decides against it. "I'm glad you didn't." He finally settles, referring to the part where I almost lost it. His blue eyes still hold confusion but he, thankfully, doesn't speak his mind. I don't expect him to understand. "Just, try not to freak out after every fight." He pauses, swallowing like he's never done this before - whatever this is. "You still have a couple more to go."

I scoff and roll my eyes childishly.

* * *

**A/N**

**Another short chapter, but I like this scene.**

**So FFN is banned in my country, meaning that I can't access the website, only through app. Which means that I can't reply to your reviews directly since the link takes me to the website only.**

**Hence, I'll do it here.**

Onesinglebird: Anna's character is kinda based off my experiences in terms of friendship. (not really in terms of character) so I try to make it realistic. I don't want to say much about Eric yet. I try to make him realistic too, meaning that his actions doesn't necessarily have a real explanation. I think I confused you more, oops?

FlyingKiwi: *nervous chuckle* this chapter kinda shows how op Anna is haha. *scratches head* Anna is pretty op honestly, but her morals are what drives her actions. She's as op as what resources amity could provide for her, which is why she sucks at guns. But yeah, I couldn't, make her good at everything. In terms on her internal conflict, I sometimes get annoyed cause she goes around in circles (you'll understand in the later chapters) but, I like that a character analyses her thoughts instead of just going with mainly feelings.

**The site couldn't load my story or allow me to update. I flipped out hahaha. And then it said that the user (me) was not found. **


	8. 8

Riley makes an appearance on Saturday – two days after getting beaten into a bloody pulp. She looks better. The bruise on her cheek had faded to a dirty yellow, along with the swelling in the eye going down. Since most of her injuries are under her shirt, she appears to be fine. The doctor said she has three crack ribs and one broken one, but if she's in pain, Riley sure didn't show it. In fact, her face has been bright and cheery the whole time I've seen her. _Odd._

We are visiting the fence today, something about learning the different job aspects. I doubt it. If we were 'learning' about different jobs, we would be visiting other areas of Dauntless as well, not just the fence. _Probably a scare tactic._ The three instructors join us, as well as the Dauntless-born. Boarding the train was a slightly difficult task, thanks to Riley. Jace helped with the ordeal, pushing her onto the train while I yanked her up. Most of the other transfers had a difficult time as well, with the exception of me, Cole and Mark. _Lucky bastards_. I decide to help Four out after Riley. He's been managing the other initiates, which he's doing a fine job at, but he's quickly losing land to run on. The instructor gives me a grateful smile when I yank a Erudite girl into the car, giving him just another second to pull himself in. The Dauntless-born – except Jace –, Mark and Cole are in the car ahead of us, seeing that they had got on much earlier.

The train ride to the fence is mostly silent, excluding the loud pants of the injured initiates. I sit close to where Four is standing at the train's door, hanging out slightly as the wind rushes past him. Riley tries to strike up conversation, but I tell her to rest; not because I care that she needs to recover, but because I don't want my ears to burn from her shrill voice. The Candor accepts the excuse, staying silent for a few minutes before turning to Jace and blabbering out how comfy the infirmary beds are. I swallow down the irritation that's bubbles in my chest and decide to move to the train door next to Four. I copy his movements, grabbing the handle the leaning forward. Unlike him who grabs it with one hand, I wrap my forearm around it, not trusting my strength to carry me. The honey-skinned man doesn't say anything, a flick of his eyes the only acknowledgement I get. The train carries us to ground level, the ruins of buildings slowly getting sparser. Vegetation starts taking over, trees become denser and denser as the train travels. Occasionally a flash of orange and red passes by, Amity. People carrying baskets wave at us, as if we're good friends. Their bright smiles only irritate me more due to the lack of true genuineness.

By the time we arrive near the fence, the trees had disappeared, revealing the vast grasslands and fields. The train stops this time, since the tracks has run out. Everyone piles out of the train, some stretching their limbs from the stiff ride. It's the first time I'm this close to the fence, and it's colossal. The concrete wall that fades to thick metal bars and platforms intimidate me, reminding me a rock-giant. The fence seems to stretch to the sky. _Please don't make us climb to the top._

The initiates split into three groups when we reach the third platform. The height makes me dizzy and nauseous, like I might fall if I look directly down.I probably will.I don't let go of the rails when Eric leads us down the walkway, my vision trained solely on his back. The leader has a slight skip in his step, something only noticeable when you stare at him long enough. His hands are in his pockets as he strides, shoulders missing the tenseness they always came with. The initiates are looking around in wonder, though I don't see what's so special. There isn't much to the fence, since every part is pretty much identical. I peer over to where they are looking, trying to figure out what's so interesting. No avail.

At one point, Eric stops us to explain what the Dauntless does at the fence – which isn't actually much. "Those ranked below ten will most likely end up here, so I would suggest you familiarize yourselves here in case you land the job of fence duty." He sounds distracted at the end with his voice trailing off. Some of the initiates pale at his comment, their ranks probably falling into the category of mention. Like Eric, I'm too distracted to allow the information to sink in. I turn to follow the man's gaze, there's a guard walking up to him. The guard is nervous, eyes cast down and scratching his neck awkwardly.

As the men converse quietly, I turn to look at the fields. I recognize it instantly – it's the field where I spend every evening. A spark of hope blossoms in my my dogs are out here playing. My eyes scan for any signs of life, nostalgia clawing at my chest. After spending much longer than necessary, my heart sinks. _Why would they even be here in the morning? _My face falls at disappointment and my foolish thoughts. I sigh.

"What?" Eric snaps. I curiously peer at him, as well as the rest of the initiates. He turns to glare back at us, making the initiates turn back to study extremely interesting fence and even more interesting fields. It doesn't work on me.

The man in front of him is cowering, swallowing thickly as he paws at his collar. "W-well..." The guard doesn't get to finish his stutter before Eric wraps his hand around his throat, pushing the man to the wall.

"What?" The leader asks in a quieter tone, deadlier. I can't see what he looks like, since his back is turned towards me, but his shoulders are back to being tensed. The young leader's biceps are bulging and taut, proudly displaying all the effort he's put in to maintain his physique. Even angry, he's absolutely delectable. The guard starts turning pink, hands clawing at the unyielding grip of Eric. He wheezes something inaudible to my ears, veins becoming more prominent on his face from the lack of blood. The ruthless leader takes a long deep breath and releases him like the guard had burned him. The assaulted Dauntless crumples to the floor, gasping for air. Without wasting a second, the guard scurries away, clothes rumpled and legs stumbling over each other. Eric stands facing the wall, fists clenching and unclenching. The rises and falls of his back are very prominent, an indication of him either trying to calm down, or becoming angrier. I wonder what the guard told him to cause such a reaction, it's the first time I've seen him this aggravated.

The walk back to the train is silent, all initiates in my group climb down the steps as quiet as possible. _That never works._ One of them trips, boots slamming into the metal steps. The Dauntless-born catches himself before he tumbles forward, eyes wide in horror by what he had just done. He only has a second to recover before Eric comes up to his face, snapping and telling him that he should go back to nursery if he can't even walk properly. The juvenile grows red in embarrassment, forcing out a 'Yes, sir!" before nodding with an exaggerated amount of force. _Is he saying yes to nursery?_

* * *

All the initiates fill up the front carts, having pick up Eric's foul mood immediately when we gathered to leave. I squint at the sardine-packed people, deciding if I should join them. Four and Eric move to the last cart, with Four probably wanting a break from the transfers. _Or a death wish._ I think about Riley's squeaky voice and Jace's constant blabbering, it's as if my ears bleed at that thought. The train starts moving, not willing to wait for me to make a critical decision. Brief panic fills me at the thought of being left behind, making my legs go on autopilot. I reach out my hand to grab the cart containing everyone, the handle gleaming in mockery. I miss it by a hairsbreadth.

_Well then._

I grab onto the last cart's handle, using my weight to hull myself into the cart. I land on my stomach since the train is moving much faster than normal, pain rips on my front from the impact. A groan escapes my mouth as I flop onto my back, panting like a dog. _Stupid trains and their impatience. _Four looks down at me with brows furrowed. The view reminds me of when I had my panic attack, except I can see him clearly this time. His eyes are dark blue, a beautiful, dreamy color. I take a moment to appreciate his visage, sharp jaws and slightly hooked nose. He has a sparse upper lip and a full lower one, accompanied with straight eyebrows. His ears stick out slightly, reminding me slightly of a . I wonder if he has a girlfriend, he's quite the catch. "You're crazy." He snaps me out of my checking-out session.

I stare back at him unblinking. "Thanks." Knocked out of my trance, I move to sit up while he shuffles away. I re-tie my ponytail and move to hang my legs out of the train. The trees are coming back into view.

"Didn't want to hang with your friends?" Four asks. I'm surprised; never took him as one for casual conversation. The instructor's sitting a few feet away from me in the car, he has an arm wrapped around his knee as he leans against the wall.

"They talk too much." I say.

"You don't seem to have much tolerance towards people."

I shrug nonchalantly, but I'm shocked he noticed. "People are annoying and complicated." _They honestly are._ "I rather not have to deal with them." I add.

Four chuckles and shakes his head, his laugh is rich and genuine. I can't help but smile. "How did you even survive Amity?" He's confused but definitely intrigued.

"There are people I can tolerate!" I whine. _Do I seem that bad? _"Just like... four people." Four lifts an eyebrow, and I belatedly realize my implications. "No, I'm serious! It isn't a joke!" He doesn't seem convinced, but doesn't say anything. His mouth is pulled to an amused smirk, one he should wear more often. My nostrils flare in fake annoyance. Speaking to Four is refreshing, not that I'll admit that out loud.

It only takes a few moments of quiet before I'm suddenly aware that we aren't the only ones in the cart. I look past Four before turning to the other side. Eric sits in the cart as well, he's staring at me with eyes half-hooded, but it appears to be unseeing. The leader is calmer now, his outburst from earlier now taking a toll on him. His slate blue eyes are dull, the burning fire and spark gone. The change in mood makes him look years older.

_Despondent._ That's the word I describe Eric as, and it weirdly makes my heart tug with sorrow. His shoulders are sagged and his breaths are shallow. I don't like the way he looks, it's as if he gave up on life; and I hate it.

Before I can register my actions, my feet are already moving. They stop short to his left and my body drops as I take a place beside him. I don't know what I'm doing, but I rather do this than continue to watch him lifeless. I shuffle close to him till our arms touch. Eric doesn't respond, doesn't tense, doesn't move. I'm not sure if he realizes if I'm even next to him. The logical side in me demands for the reason behind my actions, but I don't know them myself. My fingers becomes numb and my limbs weigh me down. I feel cold knowing that he's like this.

We sit in silence.

Then, it's almost like I didn't feel it but I do: he leans against me.

* * *

The moment I hop off the train, Skylar and Jace rushes to me. The deranged blonde picking and examining my arms, checking for things I'm not sure what. "Where were you!" She exclaims. Jace is just as worried as her.

"Huh?"

"The train started moving and you weren't in the car! One of the Dauntless-born said they saw you reaching for the handle. We thought you were left behind!" Jace is the next to shout, waving around frantically. Zack stands quietly beside them, shrugging his shoulders when I look at him pleadingly.

"Oh, urm, yeah. I did miss the car. So I went to one behind." I say. My heart swells a little at knowing that they care about me.

"You mean the one with Four…. and Eric?" Riley enters the conversation.

I nod. The Candor's face starts draining of color. "Yeah…?"

"And what did they do to you?" Skylar asks, taking a step back after seeing that I sustained no injuries.

My mouth opens but I pause. _Do I want to tell them that I conversed with Four and lean with Eric on the entire train ride home? Do the instructors even do that with the other initiates? _Something tells me no. I blink at her and clear my throat. "Nothing."

"Nothing?!" All four of them are ?

"I thought Eric would've snapped at you. He seemed pretty ticked off when we left." Jace trails off hopelessly, answering the question in my head.

"Oh, urm-" I'm saved by Four's impeccable timing. He calls everyone over and tells us that we have the rest of today and tomorrow off. I mentally send him a note of thanks, hoping he would get my message even though my face was blank the whole time. All the initiates starts talking excitedly over each other, making plans for the weekend. Four also tells us that our points replenish on Sunday, and that our ranks will be posted on Monday. My group starts suggesting to spending tonight in the Pit. I nod along absentmindedly. My mind drifts to Eric. He had gotten off the train with the same expression as when he got on. It amazes me to no end on how he's able to flick he emotions on and off. He hadn't said anything when the train was started to slow, only standing up and hopping off after Four. _What did the guard say?_

"You coming Anna?" I blink. "To the Pit. There's a party happening tonight." I stare at Jace, who has this hopeful expression on his face. Well, Skylar and Riley has the same expression too. Parties are pretty frequent back in always encourages the people to celebrate nothing and everything. Something about spreading good vibes – I can't relate. Amity parties mostly consist of dancing in big circles and playing musical instruments. I doubt Dauntless parties are anything like that. Since the dogs, I never attended the parties in Amity, choosing to stay out late in the fields to play instead. "Pleaseeee? You should try loosening up."

I take in the hopeful faces again. He's right, Ishouldloosen up. "Alright." Skylar squeals, making my ears burn. Dread already begins to fill. _Is it even possible to regret a decision before even knowing the outcome?_

* * *

I vow to never agree with my – I don't even know what to label them as, friends? – again. No matter what.

It's only past dinner and the Pit's swarming with people. Drunk people. I no longer hide my scowl as people bump into me, pushing and tripping over their own two feet. My friends have disappeared, not before downing a few shots first of course. I stand in the middle of the Pit like an idiot, just like how I've been ten minutes ago. A server with shaved green hair manages to push herself between the sea of intoxicated people while balancing a tray of drinks. I don't know her, but I respect her effort. She offers me a glass and I take it just to make her efforts seem like they paid off. Accessing the amber liquid that's in my hand, I squint before sniffing it. The smell burns my nose, making it scrunch up. Amity never had alcohol, since everyone's already too high to even need it. The only reason why I somewhat recognise the smell is because of chemistry class in school. There's a single large piece of ice in the cup, making the drink cold in my hands.

"It's scotch!" Someone slurs the words a little too loudly in my ear. "You should try it!" I turn towards a drunk man, he has blond hair and is only a few inches taller than me. The man stares at me hungrily, his eyes pausing at my chest longer than deemed appropriate. "You're kinda hot, wanna dance with me?" He's already dancing before he finishes, his chest bumping into my shoulders like a pounding headache, which is already beginning to form. He looks like an idiot; it takes me a tongue between my teeth to stop me from voicing it.

My lips turn down in distaste. "Sure. Hold this for me?" The man's eyes brighten, hand eagerly stretching out the grab the glass. I do my best to appear seductive. Turning fully to face him, I slide my arms up his chest and lean close to his ear. "Wait here."

I pull away and shoot him a wink, waving my fingers as I move into the crowd. The man, who I learned reeks of alcohol, continues to stare greedily while sipping the scotch. My nose scrunches in disgust. By the time I'm a decent distance away, I shove myself through the crowd, giving no fucks about anyone. I spot Jace with a girl pushed to the wall, his back is towards me while he makes out with her. Riley. I think about telling them that I'm leaving, but ultimately decide against it, slipping out of the Pit.

The hallway back to the dorms is empty, since everyone is out partying. I grab my hoodie and dig for the photo in my trunk, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Doing my best to recall the way back to the net, my feet carrying me swiftly away from everyone.

* * *

The moon is full in the empty night sky.

I sit with my legs hugged around my knees, finally at peace. There's a single light source coming from the stair enclosure, a long beam of white light. My head is craned up. The stars are out tonight, easily visible from the lack of clouds. It's been a while since I've seen the night sky, enjoying it now makes me realise how much I miss it. The wind howls softly beside my ears, as if whispering stories to me. I wonder how the dogs are doing. _Are John and Johanna managing them well? Does John bring them to the fields every evening?_ I pull out the small image from my jacket's pocket. The girl in it seems to be mocking me now and I'm suddenly struck that I haven't had a good laugh since I arrive here at Dauntless. A sinking feeling and nostalgia settles at the pit of my stomach, a feeling I've grown accustomed to during my time alone – which is most of the time. Sabre's fur glisten in the fading sunlight, his silver fur black at where the coat conforms to the creases of his skin. I wonder what he would do if he sees me now. _Will he jump into my arms and start licking my face? Or will he hunch by my feet, whimpering and whining because of how much he misses me._ I think about Gunner, how he's the one most attached to me. Among the trio, he would take my absence the worst. His whole life practically revolved around me. _What about Hawk? Will he find ways to escape John's watch to run back to my house?_ He's the smallest and smartest, I would be surprised if he didn't. My thumb trails down his fawn fur and black mask, if I think hard enough, I could feel his fur underneath me.

The crunching of gravel alerts me of a presence. I'm about to turn but a pair of cargo pants-covered legs stop beside me, folding and lowering the person to the ground. "Aren't you supposed to be inside partying." Four.

My mood deflates to mild disappointment. _Why am I expecting Eric instead? _"Been there, done that." I reply.

Four stretches out his feet in front of him. He seems relaxed tonight; his instructor posture gone, revealing a man of his age. "What's that?" He asks. I turn to look at him and find his gaze on the card in my hands. I hesitate._This is something no one in Dauntless knows about, do I want to confide in him? _I think about all the interactions I've had with the instructor, never once did he hold any malice towards me. He seems to be a good man, one with . _I suppose that if there's someone I had to trust, it would be him. _Sucking in a deep breath, I pass him the photo. Four knits his eyebrows together first, unable to see through the dark. He lifts the image higher, where the glow of the light reflects off the image. It takes him a few moments to stare, but eventually his blue eyes soften and he turns to me. "You looked happy." He says.

My gaze finds the moon, I don't want to look at him. "I was." I agree.

"Then why did you leave?" The million dollar question I ask myself every day. Why _did_ I leave? Sure, I didn't like the general population of Amity, and I didn't like the peace serum, but I didn't mind it before I left, so why did I leave? My mouth goes dry. _I don't know._

Yet, if thoroughly thought about it, I do. "For peace." I say. To the Dauntless male, I must sound like a lunatic; I probably am. Amity _is_ the definition of peace – metaphorically. But yet, Amity isn't.

"Pardon?" My resolve solidifies, and I no longer avoid his gaze.

"I transferred, for peace." I say. I don't repeat my words slowly as if he's too stupid to process it, because Four isn't stupid. "Peace is hard-won, sometimes it is necessary to fight for peace." The phrase comes from the Dauntless manifesto, recognition and shock fills his face. "There's something brewing. I'm not sure what, but something's about to happen." I should feel horrified for revealing my intentions of transferring, but I don't. I trust him. "I've always dreamed of becoming Dauntless, something about the fighting and guns makes it seem like an fulfilling life, one with no regrets. But the dream is foolish, a child's daydream. Dauntless believes in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot defend themselves. And I came here to do just that." I stun myself. This revelation has never came across my mind. Well, not in the way I just put it, but I still meant every word._ Who would've thought that I would've memorised the manifesto? Certainly not me._

A long moment of silence passes, the words sinking into our minds, dissecting and processing.

Four opens his mouth, then closes it. There's something he's hesitating to say. _Is he deciding whether to trust me? _A few more seconds pass, then he speaks up. "Eric's in the middle of it." Four says quietly.

"And Max." I add. Four eyes widen. "My parents are ambassadors remember?" I pause to swallow. "They've been noticing the food hoarding reports on Abnegation and the visits between the Jeanine and the leaders. I'm not sure what they are, but the secrecy means that it's not something good."

The instructor's jaw grows slack at my knowledge, not quite believing that a peace-loving initiate is aware of what's brewing beneath. "It isn't." He shakes his head to get out of his daze. "From what I gather, they're building an army. The new initiation system was placed to remove the weak, so building an army isn't a very far-fetched idea. This system forces brutality, especially in stage one." I think about Cole, how Eric didn't move to stop him when the Erudite took it a step too far.

Sighing, I rub my head, all the possibilities makes my head hurt. "I don't want to think about it, maybe once we have an idea on what's going on, then we can discuss it." Four agrees, a welcomed silence blanketing over us again. Four remains beside me, looking up to the sky to watch the moon. His presence is nice, not suffocating like my friends, I wonder if he enjoys being alone as well.

"He's fond of you, Eric." My eyes flicker to him briefly.

"I never took you as one to care for their enemies." I say. His statement doesn't surprise me as I'm not oblivious, it only confirm my suspicions. Eric treats me differently with than the other transfers. Though not obvious, it's there.

"You're right. But he when he's around you, he throws me off."

"How so?" I don't understand.

Four turns to me, entertained by my baffled appearance. "Back at the train. Was it anyone else, I don't doubt that he would've shove them away."

Ah."He seemed depressed." I shrug, I would like a comforting presence too if I received unpleasant news.

"Don't forget the time when you started hyperventilating, he was more concern over you than that girl's condition after the fights." He laughs darkly, not quite believing the events of that day. "It's the first time I saw him anxious."

"His expression was pretty comical." I agree. "But you were panicking too." I point out.

Four huffs and rolls his eyes. It's nice to see him like this: the man of his age. "It's not every day I get an initiate panic-stricken after winning a fight." Blood rushes to my face. "Which, by the way, what was that all about?"

That's how the rest of the night went, both of us rotating between idly talking and enjoying the quiet night. We talked about everything and nothing. I tell him about my life back in Amity, my dogs, John and the training my mom gave me for preparation. He doesn't offer much about himself, and for once, I didn't mind being the one to talk.

I arrive back to the dorms that are mostly empty, feeling like the weight of homesickness has been lifted off my shoulders. It's well past midnight. I shower and slip into bed with a smile on my face; it feels nice to finally confide in someone.

Tonight I made a friend – my first one for at least a decade.

* * *

**A/N**

**Longest chapter so far. It's 3 am and I really want to sleep :D**

**Not sure if you can relate to Anna about finding a friend, it's a pretty big deal to her considering that she has no one to talk to.**

**The next chapter is pretty hectic and kinda nice I suppose? Idk. **

I'm just about to post the chapter when I realised all the italics disappeared. This app is starting to piss me off :D *cue tantrums of a sleep deprived teenager* I'll fix the previous chapter(s) once I'm in a better mood. It's 3:30am now. Stupid ffn. Worst part is that I made sure that the italics stayed when I pasted the text. It just disappeared after I click save.

I've downloaded VPN for my computer. So done with everything right now :D Please pray that uploading will now be smoother. Before I lose my mind :D Sorry you have to read my rambling, I'll stop now.


	9. 9

For once, I wake up without feeling the need to head to the training room. The clock reads 7am. Everyone's asleep, so I do the same.

When I wake again three hours later, I'm energetic. I wiggle out of my cocoon and move to sit up. All the initiates are in their beds, some of them in odd angles, all except Riley. Her bed is untouched. My eye twitches._Ew. _

I get ready for the morning with nothing in mind. I practically skip to the mess hall, humming a song to myself. It's a good day. The hall is mostly empty; _this day couldn't get any better._Grabbing an apple and chocolate cake that Jace recommended, I munch on the food by myself, thinking of absolutely nothing. Last night surely did the trick, I no longer feel wistful when thinking of my dogs. _Is that what friends do to you? What have I been doing my whole life? _The cake is delicious; definitely something I won't mind eating every day.

The mess hall door opens and my acquaintances walk in. They all seem hungover, nursing their foreheads and eyes droopy. _That's my cue._I stand from my seat immediately, making a beeline for the exit when they move to the buffet line.

An idea crosses me as I skip my way to the Pit, so I enter the tattoo parlour. An oriental woman with dreadlocks introduces herself as Tori. Describing the tattoo I want, she draws it out, making edits here and there. I'm a little picky, but she seems happy to serve me, saying that my love for the dogs is refreshing and how she's never met someone like me. She starts drawing the image onto ribs and I'm full-on rambling to her. I'm describing my dog's appearances and how cute they are, like a teenage girl speaking about her crush. Tori's really entertained by my blabbering, the smile on her face unable to disappear. I leave out the whole chunk of how they have been trained to attack of course. I'm in the middle of telling her how I play with them when the needle starts pricking my skin. My voice immediately dies as my eyes squeeze shut. _The Dauntless must be crazy to go through this every time they want to embed ink into their skin._Tori apologizes for the lack of warning, saying how she didn't want to break my happy bubble. _Yeah, well, she broke it nonetheless._

I manage to wheeze out an 'I'm fine.' She tells me to ignore her as she continues. I refrain from snapping at her that one doesn't _just_ignore the constant jab of needles. She has been nice to been the whole time, no need to let my emotions get ahead of myself. I take her advice and try to start up a ramble. Only a few words manage to escape before she goes 'Yeah, try not to speak. Talking makes the ribcage move.'

I spend the next hour gritting my teeth in agony. By the time she's done, everything's sore by how I tensed every muscle in my body. She covers up the tattoo with a bandage, passing me some ointment and explaining how to care for it. The ointment speeds the healing process to a week, I mentally scold myself for not waiting it out another week before getting inked. In my earlier bubble of happiness, I had completely neglected the fact that there was still a week left of physical training. _Dumbass._

I move my jaw around before I manage to formulate a 'thank you', lower jaws aching from being clenched. She removes a small portion of my newly-replenished points, I thank her again.

My next stop is the hair salon. The shop is too bright for my liking, almost every counter is brimmed with mannequin heads of all hair colours. A female hairdresser with red hair attends to me. I do my best to not grimace at her mohawk. She works on my hair with deft movements. It takes me a while to fully relax on my seat, but eventually I do. My points are docked by half when I'm done, mainly because of how elaborate it is. The hairdresser compliments me on my choice. I thank her and start heading out of the salon, a grateful smile plaster on my face. I can't muster the will to compliment her back.

* * *

My acquaintances manage to catch me during lunch. My mood has dropped considerably since the moment I woke, so staying with them doesn't make it any worse than it already is.

"I like your hair." Skylar comments. She slides into the empty bench across me, Zack by her side.

I'm about to reply: 'I like it too.' But I catch myself at the last second, realising how stupid it would sound. "Thanks." I say instead. Riley and Jace sits to the right of me, whispering something to each other. "So, um, how was last night?" I attempt at conversation, feeling uncomfortable already.

"It was great! You should've seen Jace, he was dancing on the table tops shirtless!" Jace whines something in protest, his brain belatedly registering that there are more than one person on the table. I rub my face to cover my eye that's twitching, Skylar is rambling about how the party went and the embarrassing things her friends did. I listen in mild interest, nodding when I'm supposed to and forcing out a laugh when the rest do. Lunch passes by slowly, my head starts feeling heavy.

A familiar silence blankets the hall, I supress the urge to perk up my head. Skylar and Jace are having a debate on the best dark colours. I don't even know how the topic came about. Eric's at the buffet line, he dons his iconic sleeveless vest and black cargo pants. I sneak glances at him every now and then. He takes a seat on the table in front of us, alone. At one point, his eyes find mine. I can't look away. He seems slightly pale today, cheeks hollowed and posture tired. I'm not sure if he's hungover or had a rough night, not that I would like either of the answers. Eric still doesn't look away as he starts eating his food. I have an urge to ask him why he always stares at me, but I do the same to him. And I can't answer that question myself. He's a pretty face to look at, sadistic tendencies aside. _Does he find me attractive then? _My neck heats up at that thought. I swallow thickly. Eric's eating a piece of steak, causing my tongue to unconsciously darts out and lick my lips. As if expected, his eyes darken considerably. I take a sip of water.

"Why is Eric staring at you?" An new unfamiliar voice enters, it's Zack's. _For all the times he could've spoken, he chose now?_

The water lodges itself in my throat, I start choking. "Pardon?" I rasp out. _Great. One night with Four and I'm already sounding like him. _

"Eric, he's sitting in the table behind me. He's staring at you." Now everyone on my table is looking between him and me. _Awesome. Just. Flipping. Awesome._

My brain tries to evaluate the best path of escape. I couldn't tell them that I don't know, cause Zack would probably call me out for staring at him as well. But I couldn't tell them anything else that wouldn't have a loophole. I start mumbling a few curses under my breath. _Stupid boy who decided he wasn't going to be mute today. Stupid Zack._I sneak a glance back at the young leader to find him still watching at me – unabashedly.

He _is_the guy at the fence. There was no denying it now. Fear suddenly courses through me. _Eric is the guy at the fence._The puzzles begin to click in place; there was no way he wasn't. Eric lifts an eyebrow questioningly when I tumble out of my seat. I pick my tray up with a hand, but then it starts to shake, so I grab it with my other. "Sorry, I gotta go." I excuse myself quickly, blood in my veins turning cold. Everything makes sense now: his reaction to the guard at the fence, the spot he brought us to. He's upset cause I wasn't at the fields every evening, like I was every day. He's looking for _me_.

"Anna?" Jace stands to follow me. "Anna, Anna, hey!" My steps don't slow. I dump the tray with the others and toss my cutlery, momentarily thankful that I cleaned everything on my tray when I was eating. "Anna, slow down. Was it what Zack said?" My steps falter briefly. _Of course it's what Zack said._I want to scream at him, maybe throw a tray for good measure. I am panicking and fuming. If his friend didn't open his fat mouth I would still be ogling Eric, and him me.

But _no…_Zack opened his mouth, and everything clicked into place.

"I want to be alone." I finally say, facing to Jace to show him that I wasn't crying.

He's confused; I don't blame him. "Okay, just er, come talk to us when you feel better or something." He scratches his neck awkwardly. I manage a small smile and dash out of the hall.

* * *

I don't know what to do.

I'm confused. I'm angry. I'm conflicted. So here I am, doing what I know best ever since I left my home: taking it out in the training room. The bag sways violently each time I take a swing, but it doesn't do enough to distract me. Pain rips at my side from the stretching of the tattoo, yet it still isn't enough.

The man was – is Eric.

Eric, the man who's been conspiring with Jeanine.

Eric, the man who introduced the cut-system and no-conceding rule.

Eric, the man who doesn't bat an eye when Cole took it too far.

Eric, the man who seems to like staring at me.

Eric, the man who panicked when I broke down.

Eric, the man who never once scolded me, not even for sparing Mark.

Eric, the man who sought out comfort in me, because of me.

I sigh. I don't know what to do. The bag is smeared with blood, no doubt from my split knuckles. I cringe when I lift them to my face, they look horrible. My arm aches and my shoulders sag, drained out mentally and physically. The layer of sweat around my body should make me feel accomplished, but it's more of a nuisance now.

The water only makes my hands sting, I hiss. _I should probably head to the infirmary. _Walking down the hallway, my mind begins to dissect the situation. There are a few conclusions I draw.

One.

Eric's response to the guard shows that he has been keeping tabs on me. He must've been watching me for more than once, otherwise he wouldn't have cared if I disappeared. His dispirited mood from the train implies that he's developed a bond with the girl in the fields. As much as this made sense, it also didn't. Why would a sadistic Dauntless leader, associate himself with a happy-go-lucky Amity? Eric doesn't seem to be the type to like them, and I doubt he does. The young leader is the epitome of brutality and Dauntless, not that I've actually seen him fight.

Two.

Eric doesn't know that the girl is me. If he did, he would probably be acting differently, elated maybe. After all, the girl he's been stalking pretty much fell into his arms – willingly. I think back on how he hasn't connected the dots. My attire in Amity was always mustard shirts and red knee-length skirts. I didn't come to Dauntless wearing that. _Plus_, my hair is always tied except when I sleep. But, even if he can't put the two and two together, that still doesn't explain his tendencies to watch me. He doesn't do the same with the rest of the population, at least, I think he doesn't. _Why me?_

The infirmary smells of antiseptic and floor-cleaner. I'm just thankful that I found it after only being here once to get the mandatory shots. The nurse examines at my hands when I show them to her, her face screams disapproval. She questions the reason for my wounds. Apparently it's a known fact that Sundays are rest days for initiates. I do my best to answer truthfully, except for the part of why I was there.

Four's at the door of the infirmary when I exit. "You alright?" He asks. He glances at my bandaged knuckles questioningly, eyes moving back up to meet mine.

I start heading back to the dorms, I need a shower. "How did you know I was here?"

His nostrils flare in amusement. "I work in the control room, saw you exiting the training room earlier." _Huh. _"There are motion detectors, so I'm informed when someone enters and exits the training room outside of the normal hours." He continues.

_I bet that's how Eric first found me. _"Ah." Four strolls beside me, his thumbs stuffed in his pockets and relaxed. He looks good like this, when he isn't all instructor mode. Scratch that, he looks good either way. "I learned about something during lunch, had to find a way to cool off."

Four stays silent. I'm glad that he doesn't push. "Your new hair suits you." He comments. Unlike earlier, this time, I smile. My espresso brown hair has been dyed balayage, the dark tone fades out silver and blonde streaks. The idea came as a whim, a sudden thought to honour my dogs. I look up at him and smile, this time it's genuine. The colours I chose don't scream Dauntless, but I won't have it any other way.

"Thanks." The walk back to the dorms is quiet, and my mind finally feels at peace. I'm thankful that Four showed up. He has knack for calming me, even if unintentional.

* * *

**A/N **

**I just fell asleep with my hands on the keyboard, sorry that I can't add more. **

**Checked on my previous chapters on italics. I noticed that some of the words went missing in chapter 5, sorry that you guys had to read that.**

**Wrote a lot today, was stuck in one of the future chapters, but I'm glad that's over.**


	10. 10

Today marks one week since I split my blood over the coals.

I'm the first initiate to the training room, just like every day since I came. Eric's absent. And for once, I don't yearn for his presence. Four's writing out our ranks on the chalkboard. His writing is chicken scrawl, not that I'll tell him that. I suppose I miss Eric's handwriting then.

My hand moves to cover my lips that have been pulled between my teeth. I can barely make out the name 'Anna', which stands next to the number three. Four places the chalk on the ledge, pleased with his work. The names are barely decipherable, most of them either lopsided or uneven in size. He had attempted to make the words cursive, intentionally adding a curve or tail at the end of the alphabets. His hands are on his hips, head strained up towards the board in complete utter pride. Four's stance makes laughter bubble up my throat and I choke on my saliva. I turn away immediately and face the door, coughing and wheezing for reasons other than clearing my throat. By the time I face the instructor – which was a few minutes later – he's full on glaring at me. "Find something funny initiate?" He growls. I can't take him seriously.

"No sir." I clear my throat and attempt to keep a serious face. The twitch in my cheek betrays me.

"Good. Now, unless you want to do it yourself, I suggest you keep your mouth shut." There's a slight playfulness to his tone.

"I may take you up on that offer." The instructor eye rolls.

* * *

"Knife throwing." Four announces, flipping the blade around his hand in attempt to look intimidating. It seems to work, with the metal glinting in the light as he twists; Riley can attest to that. Knife throwing is something I'm good at, since steak knives were available for practice back in Amity. Mom said that this part of training is mostly pointless, more of a way to impress others than to be used for fighting. I think I disagree.

There are three knives in each station, mostly black with silver at the edges. I pick the one on the right, feeling it in my palm. It's only a little heavier than the steak knives I practiced on. The design is sleek, though the handle looks slightly worn from years of use. I wonder if I can smuggle the knives into the tactical vests of my dogs, especially when I head out in the future.

My first throw hits the centre of board, but since it's the handle that collided, it bounces pathetically onto the floor. Riley openly gapes at me. I'm the first one to hit the board, and it's my first try. Cole is on my other side looking ridiculously pissed off. His knife hits the air, landing mockingly a feet away from the target. _Ha._My second one hits the exact same place as the first, but my lack of strength results in it clattering to the floor. _Right, wooden board, not hay bales._I twist the third one in my hand. I wonder if they sell these in the Pit._Do Dauntless even carry weapons in the compound? _My face scrunches in thought. _That would be dangerous right? _I think about the fights I've seen occur in the Pit when passing by. _But Dauntless is dangerous. Maybe I'll ask Four. _I pull my arm back to throw the last one. It sails faster than the previous two, thanks to my added force.

Dead centre. The 'thump' it creates makes the room silent. It's a noticeable sound, since its very different from the clanking of metal hitting concrete. A shit-eating smile spreads across my face, one that can compete with Eric's. _Feels good. _

After being bored out of my mind of hitting dead centre, with each knife too crammed to make way for another, I start to make patterns. At first I wanted to spell out words, as the task will occupy me and the result will be rewarding. But after close inspection of the board, I realize that my work wouldn't stand out among the other cuts in the wood. So, I decide to throw at different angles, trying to see if I can get the knife to tilt a certain way.

The other initiates are doing well, I think. No one has hit bullseye yet – other than me of course – but at least some of the knives are sticking on the board. Cole practically has smoke coming out of his ears. His face is red and his arms are tensed. Maybe he doesn't like being beaten by a girl, an _Amity_girl to be exact. None of Riley's knives have stuck to the board, and it's been well past half an hour. I don't know how to tell her that she lacks the strength to do it, she's the most mousy one among all the girls. Sometimes I wonder why she even joined Dauntless. The Candor obviously has no experience with handling anything the training program has thrown at her. Perhaps she regretted choosing Dauntless from before, but now she seems to get along just fine, especially with Jace. A bit _too_fine in my opinion.

Eric comes storming into the training room after 45 minutes of practicing. It's amazing to see how Four's mood deflated – not that he was happy before. Eric looks enraged, his signature scowl on his face. He marches over to the other end of the room, with the stations furthest away from me. I keep my head low, currently helping Riley reposition herself after I grew frustrated by her lack of results. I don't try to meet his gaze, for the fear that he'll see right through me.

The leader stops at every single station, yelling and berating each initiate for their lack of skill. Four stands quietly behind me and the mousy girl, as far as possible from the crazed bull. I think he finds solace in me teaching Riley; specifically my irritation as I do so, judging by how he's hiding his smile. "Use your arm to generate the force, not your wrist." I say for the third time. Riley lets go of the knife; and for the first time, it sticks to the board. My knees almost buckle in relief. I have half the mind to demand she seek help from her boyfriend, she's his problem, not mine. Instead, I muster my best artificial smile and urge her to keep going. She appears to find it convincing. _Maybe she wasn't cut out for Candor after all. _

At one point, one of the Erudite girls starts sobbing, probably the one who isn't Ruby. Eric's barking suddenly becomes deadly quiet. I assume that he's whispering something in her ear, since I can't tell. Riley's face drains of colour as she watches, gulping. I glance at the my wooden board, the three knives are in a straight line that cut vertically down the centre. _It won't do._I stride forward quickly pulled them out of the wood, throwing them slowly into the chipped-out centre before repeating the process. _Please don't say anything._

The only reason why I know the rabid dog is close is the way Four shuffles away, moving to the other end of the room. _Traitor. _I have a well thought-out theory for Eric's livid mood: Today is Monday, which marks one week after the ceremony, which also marks a day after I saw him at the fence. Judging by the way he wasn't at dinner – no, I wasn't looking for him at all – he was probably at the fence. At the same spot, at the same time. If this were true, then it means that he finally believes that the guard is right, that the girl is no longer there. His anger can only be explained by the five stages of grief. Since denial has passed, he's now in anger. Of course, this whole speculation is based on the assumption that he _did _go to Amity yesterday and that he _is _the man on the fence. There is still a _small, teeny _possibility that the leader just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

"How are you still not hitting the centre, initiate?" I jolt from my thoughts. Eric's hissing to Riley.

"I-I-"

"Have you not been here for almost an hour?" Riley gulps and looks to his feet, Eric's back is hunched towards me. He's speaking to her like a child, with his hands on his knees. "From what I've seen, you've been getting help too." A shiver runs down my spine. _He's been watching me. _Riley makes an audible gulp. "So… either she's a horrible teacher – though her skills prove otherwise – and is purposely ensuring that you'll be kicked out by the end of the week… or you're just incredibly stupid… Which is it?" He tilts his head.

On another day, hearing those words should make me laugh, especially the way Riley squirms, twisting her hands like a child who's been caught stealing the cookies. But, I do want to know the answer. Riley has not particularly been a friend to me. If I look at it objectively, Riley has taken advantage of my false kindness. Her relationship of Jace is because of me, her competence to shoot is because of me and her ability to throw is because of me. Never have I ever ask her for any favours or help. What is she to me? "I don't expect silence initiate, I expect an answer." Eric's voice is deadly low; he speaks to her as if she's a retard.

"I-um." I don't understand Eric's intentions. _Is he merely trying to embarrass her or is there more to it?_

"So she's trying to edge you out of Dauntless?"

"No!" She blurts out. "Anna's been nothing but of help to me." She looks straight into his eyes as she says it. For once, she's confident and sure, like a true Candor. _Perhaps she sees me as her friend. _

"Then?"

Her head falls back to the ground, the strong woman now gone. "I'm just." Her neck strains as she swallows. "I'm just incredibly stupid."

Just like that, the mood shifts. "Good." Eric straightens his back, no longer invading her personal bubble. "Fix it." He takes a step closer. "I don't know if you're too dense to realise it, but tree-hugger over there is an initiate, just like you. And unlike you, she owes you _nothing_. You don't listen to Four when he teachs. And _still_, she holds your hand at every step of the way." I'm stunned. "So, if I ever see you act so _selfishly _again," He spits out the word like it's sand. "I'll see you out of Dauntless myself."

_Whoa. Is this what Riley has been doing? _It suddenly dawns on me that maybe she stood next to me on the first day _because _I'm from Amity. Because she _knows _that eventually I'll give in to help her. I think back to the first day. I did reach the station before she did. She must've known that unlike her, I know what I'm doing. My confidence and lack of hesitation must've hinted her that I'm someone who would do well. I grip the table to steady myself, suddenly glad that Eric blocks her from seeing most of me.

_Do I feel betrayed? _

_No. No, I don't. _This is the reason why I stopped making friends. It's back to primary school all over again. It was when I was eight where I learned that my friends were not my friends at all. They took advantage of my brains, something I inherited from my dad. They used me, knowing _full _well I'll help them because of my Amity origins, just like Riley now.

My back straightens, replicating Eric's. Riley nods, there are tears brimming her eyes. I can't bring myself to care. _Is this why she accepts my smiles as genuine? _Because she knows that whether I like it or not, she'll still get the help she needs. Eric walks off, satisfied after driving his threat home. Riley looks up to me pleadingly, like what he just said was a lie, like she isn't just using me. I don't know what to believe. So I do what I know best since I was eight, _I pretend_.

Eric exits the training room after that. I'm not sure if he looks back, for I fight the urge to see him. Knife-throwing resumes. Most of the initiates improve. They are more determined, albeit slightly shaken. Even Riley lands an occasional bullseye. She tried explaining to me, but I wave it off and said that I didn't believe a single word the demented leader spat out. Johanna would be proud of how Amity I'm being. One definite good thing that came from the whole exchange is that Riley no longer asks for help. I'm bored, but at least I'm no longer frustrated. I decide to take up the idea of spelling out a name using the marks I create when throwing the knives. The end result isn't obvious, but it's there. It spells 'Eric'.

* * *

Our second fights commences after lunch. I'm up against Ruby. Just like Mark, I give her time to showcase her punches and kicks until she's burnt out before I yank her and hit her carotid sinus. I grab onto her waist before she falls, waiting for Four to help me get her off the ring. Eric doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the day. Everyone's pretty thankful over that. Riley loses to one of the boys, she isn't as badly injured as last time when I pull her off the mat. I don't extend help to improve her combat skills.

After training, I decide to stay behind to continue, a late dinner would help me avoid the Dauntless-born. Four doesn't stay behind – not that he should – informing me that he has a shift in the control room after dinner. I don't mind.

There is truth in Eric's words. Looking at it in hindsight, everything makes perfect sense. However, I don't believe Riley is this scheming. Riley is Candor, not Erudite. Though it is possible to fake facial gestures, one can't fake your face flushing into different colours. So perhaps her intentions aren't _totally _evil. Maybe she's just a girl who needs help and takes advantage of me with no hidden agenda or ill intentions. After wasting minutes of my life pondering on the possibilities, I decide that I don't want to think about the mousy sickly girl anymore; she's not worth getting a headache for.

My thoughts move to Eric. He somewhat stood up for me. I doubt he has done to same to anyone, much less an initiate. My heart flutters and blood rushes to my cheeks. _He's really sweet. _My hands go to cup my face. _Really sweet. _I'm giddy like a fool because people don't stand up for those they don't care about. The fact that Eric Coulter did it, means that there must be more to it.

There's no denying it now; _Eric Coulter likes me. _

I'm about to start skipping and spinning around like an Amity on peace serum but I don't. _Or maybe he hates weaklings. _My shoulders slump. It's a huge possibility; maybe he hates people being unable to stand on their own two feet. This sounds like the malicious side the young leader is known for, which makes it a very high probability. It too, is a more logical reason. I groan and facepalm myself in defeat.

I break into a run. Events of today aside, I still had to address the elephant in the room. That is: Eric being the man on the fence. _Should I tell him? _But what good would it do? Would he question how I knew it was him? He might find out about my divergence, since only an Erudite would be able to piece such information together. Is divergence a problem though? My parents have warned me about it, which led them to tell me how to get a Dauntless result for my amptitude test. They didn't tell me who I'm supposed to hide this information from. The Erudite side of me says that it's probably Eric. He's working with Jeanine, and dad tells me Jeanine is a little queer and paranoid to begin with. The Amity side says that Eric would never hurt me, even if his orders are to kill any divergents he finds. But the amity side, is the foolish, naïve side. Just because the young leader is fond of me doesn't mean he'll go great lengths to protect me. I could just be his newest infatuation.

I won't take the risk, especially when the stakes are high. If Eric decides to hunt me down for my divergence, I'll be letting down my parents, Johanna, John and all that've helped me. _My dogs. _Never mind not seeing them again, but how will they continue once they realise that I'm never coming back? There's only so much peace serum John can give them, having them live off it for the rest of their lives is torture to my eyes.

_I won't tell Eric. _But I can't continue on like nothing's changed either. It eats me up inside to see him suffering and doing nothing about it, especially when I am the cause _and _the solution – I hope. The five stages of grief ends with acceptance. I'll just have to hope that I can ignore him till he reaches there, then everything will be fine.

I pray it will be.

* * *

**A/N**

**Anna is complicated. She thinks too much.**

**Kinda meh about the italics on her thoughts, they mix too much with her actions. I hope I can figure out a balance eventually; too much sets me off.**

**I'm excited for the following chapter. It's kinda comical and cute. I'll try to update tomorrow, but I have a graduation ceremony and dinner to attend. We'll see ;)**

**I'm writing the later chapters and find Eric very... odd. I kinda wanna write in his POV to make his absence justifiable. I'll just pass it off as him being busy and doing 'leader' work for now. *Cue self strangling in the background***

**Yestreday's chapter was kinda choppy. (sorry ':P) I'll find time to fix it. Hopefully.**


	11. 11

My plan of avoiding Eric was working, until Four screwed it up.

You see, I was having a really decent Thursday night's sleep, curled up in my warm man-made cocoon in darkness. Training has been going well. Riley doesn't ask me for help anymore – not that she ever did – but now, she's been paying more attention to Four's teaching. I reconciled with my acquaintances over lunch and I'm tolerating them a little bit more. Zack apologized, though I bet he has no idea why he should. I don't answer the question he had asked, and the rest don't bring it up. The real reason for my reconciliation was not because I felt lonely, rather it's because I need a distraction. It's _kind of_mean, but what's new? Ignoring Eric is not a very difficult task, all I needed to do was to think about how cute and smart my dogs are instead. I don't meet his gaze; I don't perk up when he walks in. _Easy._An added bonus is that he's been absent more than not, so it's not like I have to be on guard each time. He seems angrier each time he comes to the training room though. Stage two of grief – anger – is really taking its course, so there's that.

So, back to my lovely sleep. It was wonderful, until it was cut short. Four enters the dorm with his crowbar in one hand and torchlight in the other. He then proceeds to bang the piece of metal on the wall with an _unnecessary_amount of force, yelling for us to get our asses up. Was this how the transfers felt on the first day? Cause it really sucks. As if the banging wasn't enough, the infuriating instructor proceeds to shine the torchlight in each one of our faces, burning our eyes. The light stayed longer on me and judging by how the torch bounces up and down, it suggests that he's laughing at my cocoon. Or my hair. _Screw you. _That's my best attempt of mentally yelling at him through my fuzzy brain. He informs us that we will be going on a field trip and to be at the train within ten minutes. _It's one freaking am._

Five minutes later, I'm at the train platform. I don't need much to get ready, just wriggle out of my hoodie and blankets, tie my hair, pull on the shoes, drink some water, and I'm good to go. As usual, I'm the first transfer there. The Dauntless-born are there too, all excited and talking loudly amongst each other. Four and Eric stands to the side, piles of black bags below their feet. I stand at the middle, in my skin-tight v-neck shirt and capris. It's too flipping cold; screw me.

The train arrives right before my legs freeze over. We pile into the train, some of us carrying the bags the instructors brought. I move to stand near Four, since he's considerably large and emits heat – heat being the keyword.

I don't recognize this activity, maybe they didn't have it twenty years ago.

"War games." Four reaches to the inside of his jacket. _How smart of him to wear it._"It's like capture-the-flag." At that, he pulls out a neon orange flag; it burns my eyes.

"It _is _capture-the-flag." Eric snaps. My brows fly up my head and I purse my lips_. __Isn't he just lovely_? Eric pulls out a gun, which sure doesn't look like one. It's an odd shape; constipated. "Shoots neuro-sim darts. One shot of these will feel like an actual gunshot, only difference is that you don't bleed to death." _Huh. _I manage to locate Riley's face among the sardines – its pale. I do my best not to snicker. Four explains the rules in little detail, because there aren't any rules really. The guns get passed around and soon it's time to split the teams.

This is where he screws me over.

"You go first." Eric says. _Thank the heavens._

Four glances down at me, then places his fingers on his mouth, deep in thought. "Cole." I blink. _Did he just-_

"Tree-hugger." Eric doesn't hesitate, like picking the Amity is second-nature. My eyes widen in complete betrayal. _How could he? _I tense my entire being and walk stiffly to Eric. Four coughs into his fist, no doubt to cover his laugh. _To think that we were friends. _

I don't hear the rest of the team splitting, only the blood hammering in my ears. Mild irritation at the somewhat betrayal of my only friend only builds as the minutes tick by.A string of incoherent curses spews out of my tongue. _Who appointed him as cupid? _My team hops off first; I don't miss the chance to send Four a well-deserved glare.

* * *

Jace and Zack are with me, as well as pig-head Mark and red riding-hood Ruby. The night air is frigid. _Why did I not think of bringing my hoodie?_

Oh right, because I didn't want to risk dirtying it and going without it for a night. I make a mental note to buy another when I get back. _If_I get back.

The journey to the trees results in me tripping over twice; at least I'm not the only one. I try sticking close to Jace as a heat source, my teeth clattering and arms coated in a layer of gooseflesh. Tonight, Jace doesn't talk; at least the gods are answering some of my prayers. Regardless, he still isn't warm enough.

"Ideas?" Eric snaps irritably after a few heartbeats of silence. It doesn't take another moment before the initiates burst into conversation, everyone throwing out ideas while berating the previous ones. Jace moves away from me to join the circle that formed. Survival instincts kicking in, I sidle up to Eric, arms folded tightly over myself and gun slung across my back. He won't try anything. We stand a good distance away from the arguing teens. Their voices are already beginning to tire me. Eric's pretty warm, much warmer than Four and Jace combined – not that I was keeping track.

At one point, Mark suggests an idea to place the flag somewhere on the trees. It's a stupid idea; Jace seems to agree. "They would see it from a mile away you idiot!" _True._

"The leaves will block it!" Mark protests.

"Yeah well, I don't know if you haven't noticed, but it glows fucking green!" A Dauntless-born girl snarks. I can't help but snicker.

"Time's running out initiates." The man beside me says warningly, getting tired of their futile antics.

An idea comes to me; it spews out of my mouth before I can think it through. "Why don't we hide it under the dock?" Black blobs turn to me – well I think they did – and I gesture at the rotting wooden platform.

Mark pipes up. "But-"

"That's the best idea I've heard so far." Eric cuts off. I doubt he had even listened to the other ideas; I know I hadn't.

"It's on the ground, making it hard to be seen from above, as the buildings will block out the glow. The planks will absorb most of the light too." A cold wind blows._Heck._"Plus" Clatter. "We can" Clatter. "Ambush those coming by hiding from in the trees and buildings." I swallow. "And." More clatter. "There's only one way for them to-" Eric wraps an arm around my back and pulls me to him when my teeth clatter again. For once, I'm glad that the night practically blinds everyone, for it hides his arm and the redness in my cheeks. "come get it. Since it's surrounded by the sea." I finish stiffly.

Everyone agrees with my plan, splitting hastily between offense and defense. I'm stuck with Eric on offense. I suspect his glaring was the one that made it such. _Since when can one see a glare_? No one notices his arm around me, or that I'm basically glued to his side, everyone's just too excited to head out and shoot each other. Not good.

* * *

I'm slightly warmer and a good distance away now, since we are lightly jogging – and tripping – around the Pier looking for the other team's flag. Jace and Ruby are the two that follows our group, all of us silent with fingers over the triggers. It is obvious that the Pier was once a magnificent place, glass and buildings with white-washed walls lay either half standing or in rubble, telling of a better time.

The walk between the streets is quiet and boring. If only Hawk was here, I could boost him as he runs up the walls, gaining a high vantage point to look for the other team's flag.

_Or I could do it myself. _A ladder hides itself in the shadows, just the tip of the wooden edge peaks reflects off the moonlight. "Wait." The group stops and turns to me. I walk over the ladder and heave it out, leaning it against one of the balconies with the top of the building missing the roof. "We need to figure out where the other team keeps their flag, otherwise we'll be here all day." The ladder wobbles beneath me, worn with age. The building I'm on isn't the tallest, but it'll make do.

"Beneath the Ferris Wheel." Eric beats me to it. _When did he get up here? _"Find the others and tell them, we'll meet you up ahead." I can't see the two initiates, but the likelihood of them currently nodding is high. The implications of his words only register into my brain after their footsteps fade into the night. I suck in a deep breath, and take a step towards the ladder.

Yeah, not happening.

Eric intercepts me immediately, standing directly in the path of escape. "You've been avoiding me." Straight to the point, I'll give him that.

"No I haven't." I snap back instantly. _Goodness, I sound like a child_. I clear my throat and repeat my words, calmer this time. "No, I haven't been avoiding you."

"Look at me and say it again." His voice is low like a growl; a hidden threat. The brooding man takes a step forward, I take one back.

I close my eyes briefly. I can do this. Simple task. Just one sentence. My eyes lift up to meet his.

He's breathtaking; sharp jaw, spare lips, microdermals, slate blue eyes; a modern Greek god. My heart skips a beat. _How I've miss staring at him. _I don't look away, giving in to my desires and lust.

It's only when I take the time to scrutinize do I see how he's changed these few days. His face is pale, and it's not due to the moonlight. There are dark circles under his eyes; they aren't obvious though, only noticeable if you stare at him frequently to know what he looks without them.

_I_notice them. They stand out like a sore thumb, and I hate it. My hand twitches to reach for his face, to trail along the darken skin like I care deeply for his feelings, because I do, oddly enough. But I can't. I can't compromise all that I've worked for, all everyone's worked for.

_Does it matter though? _Seeing him like this reminds me of the day at the fence. And I hate it; I hate it; I hate it.

Eric's eyes bore into mine. There's a swirl of emotions fighting with each other. Confusion. Anger. Frustration. Defeat. Exhaustion. He steps closer to me, almost until our chests meet. I can't find the will to step back. His hands move to gently cup my cheek. The palms are warm and gentle, even though his hands are calloused from labor. This feels nice; right; perfect. My eyes flutter close as I lean into him. I feel him do the same. His breath fans my cheeks, dispelling the cold of the night sky. He smells good – cologne and musk. Something that I would lose myself to; something that would break my resolve.

But like a snap of fingers, he's gone. My eyes fly open as he pulls away abruptly, the warmth going with him. The cold air mocks me. "I'm sorry. I can't." Eric blurts out, rubbing his face in irritation. "I mean I can, but I won't. You're not- I'm sorry."

_I am her. _The words are on the tip of my tongue. Three little words and all this will fade away. No more despondent Eric, no more frustrated me. But I can't, and I've _never_hated myself more. "It's okay. I understand."

"No you don't-"

"I do." I say this firmly. I truly do. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to smile. "Let's just, get the flag and pretend this never happened. Alright?"

Never have I ever seen the young Dauntless this conflicted. He's choosing between the past and present; and he can't decide. "Give me a week." He speaks up suddenly. "Give me a week and I'll figure it out." He has this determined look in his eyes – an expression that finally looks good on him.

_A week? A week to learn about me? A week to find the girl in the fields? A week to decide? A week to what? _Curiosity claws at my mind, filling me up with hope, along with fear. "Okay." I don't pry; I don't push; I give myself the benefit of doubt.

* * *

When we arrive to the Ferris wheel, there are initiates crumpled on the ground everywhere. My arm is yanked to the side and my body stumbles behind a wall. Something whizzes past my ears.

"Are you crazy?!" Eric whisper-yells, eyes wide. "There are people up there! You're gonna get shot!" It suddenly strikes me that the malicious leader _might_take this game a little _too _seriously. I can't help but grin.

"Okay." I whisper-yell back with just as much enthusiasm. "So, what's the plan?"

"Switch sides." Eric pulls me further from the edge of the wall, taking the place where I was crouched seconds ago. He pokes his head out for a split second before bringing it back in. A bullet flies past where his face was mere milliseconds ago. "Number boy's guarding the flag. He's a crazy one, that motherfucker, don't let him see you. Though, I think he knows we're here by the darts."

"Got it, don't let him see me."

"There's an initiate on a ferris wheel cart. I think it's Joe, he's a lousy shooter, so don't worry about him." _Has he been keeping tabs on how well everyone can shoot?_

"Who's Joe?"

"One of the transfers you train with…?" He says incredulously.

I have no idea who he is. "Right. Lousy shooter. Don't worry about him."

"But don't let him see you!" _Eric's cute._I steel my face to prevent cracking up. His eyebrow lifts, the metal studs glint under the moonlight. "Are you finding this funny?"

"What makes you say that?" _To think that I was good at faking emotions._

"You look constipated." _I do?_

I clear my throat. "Just thought of something weird."

Eric looks at me exasperatedly; at least he doesn't look like he's going to snap me in half. "At a crucial time like this?"

"I'm sorry." I wheeze out.

Eric doesn't find me convincing, but he goes back to evaluating our situation. By the time he's done, he's located every guard on Four's team – all of which I should not let them see me – and conclude that we are the only two people on our offense squad left. It amazes me to no end how he managed to dissect and assess the whole scene with a few pokes of his head.

"Now remember, these initiates probably think that everyone is down, so they won't be expecting us. All except Four, because Four's an ass."

"Four's an ass, got it." Eric smirks at my serious face. He isn't aware that I now have bad-blood with him too.

"Two shots. Remember where they are?" We had moved from our earlier spot, taking camp behind a different building.

"Ten thirty and eleven forty-five. Don't think, just shoot." I recite his orders from earlier.

Eric nods his head. "Good. I'll be right behind you." _Wait, what?_"Go!" The twenty-year-old man shoves me out into the open, like a lamb thrown into the wolves' den – cause that's exactly what it is.

I don't have time to think or swear before my instincts take over. I fire two shots in succession, yelps and shrieks fill the air. _Was that Riley?_Adrenaline surges through my veins and my legs push me straight towards the flag and Four. Two more dart-shots registers in my ears, but only one yelp follows. "Split up!" Eric barks from behind me. I take the right while he takes the left. I leap over a panting Mark, he seems pretty worn out. _Good. _Four waves the gun between the two of us, shooting darts in miscalculated panic. I miraculously dodge all of them, and so does Eric; I think. Four aims his gun at me again, who is only meters away now, but this time it only clicks.

Eric picks up on the sound before I can utter a word. He lifts his gun and shoots the defenseless instructor, making him groan and fall onto the ground. I dive for the flag as if all the other initiates weren't already down. With the fabric in hand, I whoop and jump in victory, pausing to wave it in number boy's face. Eric laughs while number-boy rolls his eyes. I shoot him in the thigh.

* * *

The ride back to the Dauntless is full of grumpy teenagers. Only me and Eric are high on euphoria, since we're the only ones who _both_didn't get shot or sit at the docks, bored out of our minds. Well… maybe Jace is high too.

"Did you see them?" Jace exclaims to a bunch of exhausted Dauntless-born. "They came out of nowhere and was like 'phew!' 'phew!' and then-"

"Yeah I know, I was the one they shot." A girl growls irritatingly, rubbing her shoulder.

Jace ignores her. "It was so cool! And when Four ran out of bullets… You should've seen his face!" Jace cackles like he doesn't notice that everyone, except me, can't relate.

I tuck my feet beneath me and rise from the ground, moving lean out of the car next to Four. "You knew we would win." I say quietly, my anger towards him now dissipated. I figured it out when I realized that Four didn't alert the rest of the initiates the moment he spotted us. Four sighs but doesn't turn to me. He was shot four times, though the number wasn't intentional. Eric had his shit-eating grin the whole way to the train, watching his rival hobble on his good leg. At one point, I felt so guilty that I offered to carry his gun or help him. He declined both offers, snapping that he was a '_perfectly _capable Dauntless soldier' who can handle a few 'measly' shots. I suppose his pride has been slightly wounded.

It takes a moment for him to speak up, but when he does, I almost didn't catch it. "For what it's worth, I'll do it again."

Thinking back, I can't help but agree.

* * *

**A/N **

**By far my favourite chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did when writing and editing it.**

**Reading**** it now, I feel motivated to add more Eric into my stories. :'D I shall try. **

**On a more serious note, I think I'll only be updating once every two days. I'm starting to intern at an equine hospital and won't have time to write as much. I don't think it'll come to a point where I update once a week (maybe until school starts back up next year - if I haven't finished the story by then)**


	12. 12

Visitation Day is tomorrow, which makes today the last day of stage one.

I squint at the writing on the board.

_Cob._

_Cde._

For the benefit of all, Eric should be writing instead.

My hands rub eyes as if it will clear my almost-perfect vision. Miraculously, it worked, and I immediately regret it.

I'm against Cole.

Cole. The only other initiate who has remained undefeated.

Cole. The only initiate whose given his opponents cracked ribs and broken noses.

Cole. The most heartless of all I've met.

Cole. The one ranked first among us.

I rest my fingers against my lips, letting the information sink in. The beast inside me paces, whispering all I can do to him. Rage slowly fills me as I think about all those who've been unfortunate enough to be paired with him.

I could avenge them, teach him a lesson he won't forget.

Cole stands with the rest of the boys, head held high and unfazed by his opponent. I tilt my head as I watch him conversing. If there was anyone who deserves pain, it would be this louse. A smile creeps up my lips as I picture Sabre beside me, hackles raised and teeth bared.

One simple command and the initiate will never walk again.

The scene in my head is vivid. I can imagine the sheer panic and fear that will fill his face as the merciless hound tears his way to him. The way he screams and tries to escape, only to be knocked down hard onto the concrete floor. Maybe he'll break his nose during that fall, or maybe Sabre will do the honor. Cole will be completely at the hound's mercy, no training from Four will protect him.

I wonder what his screams sound like.

A girl's? High-pitched and sissy.

Or a pig's? Squealing and pathetic.

I can imagine the state Sabre will leave him, disfigured and barely alive, just a fraction of what he deserves for what he has done to others. Sabre will trot right up to me, tail wagging and head held high, with his beautiful dark-grey muzzle tainted dark with blood. The blood of someone who doesn't deserve mercy. I would get down on my knees then, welcoming my pride and joy with open arms. A beautiful day that would be.

"I know what you're thinking." A familiar velvet voice says beside me.

I straighten my spine and turn towards my only friend. "Tell me he doesn't deserve it."

The man is silent beside me, the heat he's emitting being the only indication he hadn't left.

Cole laughs at a snide joke Mark said, throwing his head back and slapping his back in response. He sees me watching after he sobered up. My head only tilts further, feeling no embarrassment to be caught staring. Shooting me a sneer, he goes back to his friends. He speaks quieter this time, and they all glance furtively to me.

Through my almost two weeks of being here in Dauntless, I've yet to find one redeemable quality of this despicable boy. "You say that, but Eric's no better than him." My whole-body tenses at the mention of the handsome leader. _How dare-_ "Eric is ruthless, you've seen-"

"Eric is different." I snap back immediately, eyes promptly narrowing to slits at the man beside me.

"Is he?" Four challenges, taking a step to face me. His arms are crossed and his face is hard. I don't back down. "Pray tell."

Is he?

I'm suddenly struck with doubt, Cole and his antics long forgotten. Four was in the _same_ initiate class as the young leader, surely he of all people would know what Eric was, and is like. My face scrunches into distaste at the fact. From what I've seen, Eric seems to enjoy the fights, unlike Four who's mostly uncomfortable unless the person is paired with me. Eric _is_ like Cole. The only difference is he stands on the sidelines instead. The seriousness on Four's face tells me were Eric be in the initiate's position, he wouldn't hesitate to beat his opponent into a bloody pulp.

_No. _

I've seen Eric; the man without his walls. I know he is nothing like Cole.

Do I though?

Does he having taken an interest in me change the person he truly is? I open my mouth but no words form. I'm speechless. I'm speechless because stupid number-boy has a point. Looks aside, why _do_ I like Eric? Because he treats me differently? And I'm spared by Dauntless' most brutal man?Because he has never yelled or raised a hand on me_? _That should be the bare minimum a man should do to his girl; given that he regards me as that.

Why do I like him?

I've never sat down and evaluated. I recall my last night back in Amity, how I decided not to associate myself with him. What changed? My brows furrow as I ponder. As far as I can see, Eric hasn't exactly changed his ways.

Sure, he cares about me a little bit more than normal, but that shouldn't cover up his flaws. My mind is muddled, suddenly realizing that I don't know why I'm attracted to him.

Am I attracted to the man inside? Or outside?

The only thing I do know is that I care for him; and I have no idea why.

The man of subject enters the training room then, causing Four to slink away and call for the first fights.

Eric's tired today.

His shoulders are slumping, so slightly that it's barely noticeable. His face doesn't sport its signature scowl or sneer, just flat and dull. Four was right a few days ago during capture-the-flag, he must've known that by letting Eric win, he would get a few days spared from arguing with him. Eric had strutted around Dauntless like a peacock with a fixed smirk on his lips, boasting about how he gunned down number-boy and two other initiates in the span of a minute _and _took the flag.

I'm not sure if I was included in his conversations with the members, being too distracted by his high-spirited moods. It was a refreshing sight, one that makes me smile like a buffoon.

But like all good things, it must come to an end. Sadly, it wasn't long enough for me. Eric stands in front of the board containing the fighting pairs. I can see his eye twitch in irritation. "Fucking chicken scrawl." He curses loud enough for me, who's standing a few feet to the side of him, to hear.

Finally, someone on my side.

The leader places his hands on the hips, craning his neck to decipher number-boy's writing. Four tried to write differently today, ditching the cursive tails for cramped letters. I suppose his handwriting today is marginally better, despite the vast difference in style.

By the time he read the last pair – mine's - his scowl is now etched on his face. The young leader strides over to the instructor, stepping over the bruised dark-skin Erudite girl unperturbed before taking his place beside Four.

I move to sit with Riley, suddenly feeling unsettled. My mind is blank as the sheets Four likes to read. I don't know what to make of the leader and I don't want to figure it out. Riley seems nervous, her hands fidget and her eyes dart around too much. She's up against Ruby today – the second-best female fighter.

The urge for a distraction gnaws at me. "Hit here." I point at the carotid sinus on my neck.

"What?"

The eye further away from her twitches. There's no way one had somehow managed to evade watching any of my matches.I tuck my feet underneath me and push myself to stand. Teaching Riley would provide a good distraction from all the crap that's going on in my head. "Come on, I'll give you some pointers." I'd decided not to repeat myself.

The Candor perks up immediately, eyes bright and smile wide. "Really?"

_No. It's just false hope. _

"Yes," I say tightly.

Riley hops onto her feet, following me to an empty mat in the room. Her brown eyes hold a gleam in them, something I've never seen before – hope.

We don't have much time, since Riley's fight will be up next. "Ruby is smart, but not smart enough." I start. "She hits with her right arm, using the left to guard her face." I move up my hands to mimic her punch. Riley nods as she watches, completely engrossed on everything I say. "The moment you see her punching, kick her right side. You're flexible and quick enough to intercept her that way. Once that happens, grab her left arm and pull it across her body, which will expose her neck. Then hit the spot I told you to." I grab Riley's hand and bring my other hand down vertically, showing her the force needed to quickly knock someone out.

Riley's jaw unhinges at the strength requires to pull off the move. I don't react, my expectations of her knowing anything low.

"Don't do this at the start. You need to wear her out first." I continue to explain how to predict a person's next movements and how to intercept or dodge them. Riley nods her head, testing them out on me. We continue like this for a few minutes.

Teaching someone how to protect themselves is oddly enjoyable. And for once, I don't find the exercise draining.

Perhaps it's the idea of coaching someone to hone their skills and techniques effectively without causing inessential harm to the opposite party.

"Riley and Ruby." Four announces. Riley turns to me and smiles, feeling confident for the first time.

"You can do-" I'm cut off by the rush of air escaping my lungs. A pair of thin arms wrap around my body, almost bordering suffocating. I'm stumped. This is my first hug in two weeks, and I didn't realize how much I miss it,.

It takes me a while to respond, but I eventually wrap my arms around her. Riley smells like vanilla, a sweet calming scent I've never actually noticed on her. "Thank you." She says. I grunt in response, her grip unyielding. "For everything." Her tone is soft and sincere; real.

As she pulls away, I can't help but wonder what she meant. Everything as in fighting techniques? Or everything as in Jace and all the times I helped her? Riley moves to the mat with her back straight; confidence looks good on her. My mind tells me that it's the latter. I feel so too.

* * *

Riley wins the match.

A surge of pride rushes through me as I watch her using the tricks I've just taught her. She wore Ruby out, knocking her down by kicking the back of her knees right after she sidestepped an incoming hit. Watching her reminds me of me. Perhaps this was this what mom felt when I first started training, proud and content.

_We don't do this their way, but the right way,_ she always reminded, forever patient when I complained about the moves being too gentle and soft.

I see that now. My heart swells for the love I feel for my mother, she's perfect in every way. Gentle, patient, kind, and dangerous. Visitation day is tomorrow, meaning that in twenty-four hours, I'll be reunited with her and dad. My insides bubble with excitement at the thought of seeing them again. They are the world to me.

Everyone – even me – was shocked when Riley came out as the victor. This is the first match she won, so the reactions of everyone are as predicted. Four pats her back and congratulates her, helping her pull Ruby off the ring. The moment Four lets her go, she runs to me, squealing and full of gratitude. I can't stop the grin that forms on my face, her happiness contagious. She thanks me profusely, rambling about how she managed to dodge most of the hits by reading her opponent's facial features and gaze. I laugh as she embraces me, tears brimming her eyes in shock and glee.

But unlike her, my happiness is short-lived.

"Anna and Cole."

Right.

I had forgotten about my fight with the scum. My arms fall away to my side as all the mirth seeps out of my face. Riley immediately tenses, giving me one last squeeze before pulling away. She mumbles a 'good luck' as I step away from her, stoically striding up the mat.

Cole reminds me of a deranged bull; his fists are clenched to his side and all his muscles have been pulled taut. My head tilts slightly and my eye twitches.

I didn't know intimidation stances are a thing now.

I take my place on the opposite side of the mat, stretching out my arms and legs before rolling back my shoulders. There's a ringing sound in my ears, one that blocks out all noise. I'm not sure what to do to the bulky Erudite, whether to hurt him or not. But I'm not given time to think because he's already in my face, a fist heading straight to my face. My arm instinctively moves up to block the punch. The impact of fist colliding with arm sends a sear of pain through my forearm.

My heart skips a beat.

Adrenaline pumps into my veins as his fist grazes my cheek, my movements almost too slow to dodge it. My breathing picks up as I twist away, forcing a good distance between us. No thoughts form in my head as he lunges towards me, arms outstretched and aiming for my neck. I yelp as he manages to latch onto my arm instead, pulling me down with him to the ground. My skull slams into the horribly-cushioned mat, the impact making my head sting.

Black dots starting to form in my vision.

Crap.

I twist my arm away from his hand, scrambling back up onto my two feet. By now, blood pounds in my ears, deafening and unceasing. Panic sets in and my hands grow clammy. My world spins as I force myself to get a grip.

But I can't.

_I'm afraid. _

Cole lunges before I've fully recovered. My feet yank my body away from him, all coherent thoughts flying out of the window as the will to survive kicks in. Fear pulses through me as I continue to twist and crouch to avoid his hits. My arms ache from blocking the hard punches, undoubtedly beginning to bruise. Each breath I take is short and quick, panicked and ragged.

Cole shows no signs of slowing down, but I am.

My head spins from dizziness, clouded with fear and nothing else. I feel myself losing, my movements turning sloppy.

_I'm afraid; I'm afraid; I'm afraid._

A sharp pain shoots up my side, making me stumble back. I didn't see his shoe coming up; the ringing and pounding in my ears coupled with my blackening vision too overwhelming to focus. Air escapes from me as my body is forced out of its axis. Gravity pulls me down hard, back slamming onto the ground to fast for me to brace myself. Lead weighs my arms down, too heavy to push myself up or protect my face. I wait for pain to rip my side, the kicks that Cole always sends to take out his anger. It doesn't come.

Instead, something presses itself on my lower body – his.

Something snaps in me then, the cloud of fogginess lifting. Cole is on top of me, a position I'm uncomfortable and alien to. His arms cage me in, his hips pin me down. Cole's eyes are cold and foul, something unrecognizable swimming within them.

I feel threatened and exposed.

My mother's voice screams into my ear; it's the first thing I've heard since the match began. _TRIANGLE!_ Her voice is shrill and piercing, cutting through all the pain and din.

My movements become robotic, defense mechanism kicking in. I grab his hand on my right and force it to his chest, my leg immediately slinging up to his neck. My ankles lock against each other while my other hand slings onto my left leg, forcing his other arm in place. Cole shouts in surprise, suddenly being yanked against me. My body twists towards his outstretched arm, hands grabbing and twisting his arm into an odd angle.

I don't think, I just do.

A sickening loud 'pop' is heard and Cole promptly screams.

He bucks against me and I pull his arm across his chest in the span of a millisecond. My thighs squeeze together to force him still. I tip us to the side before he attempts to straighten his back. His screams make my ears burn but does nothing to my unyielding hold.

_Pass out. _

Is what I silently plead despite what I've done. I lock his free arm using mine as he struggles for air. The moment his screams contort to wheezes, I know there's not much longer.

_Please pass out._

It takes him a moment longer to oblige.

Legs untangle themselves away from him and I push the limp initiate off me. He flops onto his back, arm still twisted in an unnatural angle. Cole's face is purple from the lack of oxygen.

The sight is sickening.

And I only make it to my fours before my breakfast hurls out of my body. My stomach lurches as I heave a few feet beside the boy. The acid burns my throat and mouth, making tears well at my eyes. I heave until I can't anymore, until my stomach ache and face stings.

I'm never doing this again.

The second my urge to heave halts is the moment I register the pin-drop silence. I don't look up, afraid of what I'll see. Instead, I crawl away from the boy and my vomit, the smell aggravating my nose. Pain shoots up from my side where Cole's boot had made contact, and I wince.

Only when I've collapsed onto the mat does anyone say anything.

"Mark and Joe, take Cole to the infirmary." Four's voice is robotic and monotoned, like he's not really in the now. There's a shuffle of footsteps as the boys move to pick up their friend. I don't turn to look at them, exhausted. My limbs are heavy with lead and I can't move, having given up now danger has passed. "You all have the rest of today off. Enjoy your weekend." My body aches, the adrenaline wearing off to reveal the injuries I've sustained during my fight. Another pair of footsteps register in my ears, this time softer and timid. "Don't worry about her Riley, we'll handle her."

"But-"

"Leave." A new voice interjects, irritated and final – Eric's.

The footsteps pause, as if lost on what to do. For a few seconds, no noise is made. My eyes close in weariness, seeing no point in staring at the bloodied mat any longer. Riley whispers something I don't quite catch, and my world turns black.

* * *

**A/N**

**There's more to this chapter but I split it in two since it was so long.**

**[From the future] I'm slowly editing my previous chapters, starting with this cause of how badly it was written. I'll be working on improving the rest without any specific order :P**


	13. 13

Riley was right; the infirmary beds are comfy.

I wake up on something softer than the crappy beds of the dorms. Everything smells of detergent and with a hint of antiseptic; a scent I find oddly calming. Fluffy sheets wrap around my body, providing the warmth that contends with the cocoon I snuggle in. My hands move to grab the edge of the sheets, pulling them closer to me and nuzzling into the pillow. This must be what Riley did when she was injured – happily camping in undisturbed comfort.

A sound of wood scraping the floor have my eyes snapping open. White blinding light greets me. "You're awake." A glass of water enters my field of vision. Unconsciously, I grab ahold of it. My mouth still tastes faintly of vomit.

Once I've downed the liquid and return the cup, I heave myself to sit up. The room is spacious and airy, one-third the size of the dorms. There's a single grey armchair at one corner of the room, slightly out of place after being pushed by the user. I take my time before looking up to Eric. I would've wished it was Four instead, if it weren't for Eric holding out another glass of water. I accept it gingerly, mumbling a thanks. His features are unreadable, poker-face on. He moves to sit at the edge of my bed, making me feel like a cornered animal. Sipping some water, I swoosh it in my mouth before swallowing. "I wish I wasn't." My voice sounds hoarse, just like the chair that scraped the ground.

"Where did you learn that?"

I definitely wish Four was here instead.

I take another gulp of water. "Learn what?" It had completely slipped my mind that the possibility of Dauntless using a triangle choke may be non-existent.

"A triangle choke." I shift in my seat, causing pain to shoot up my side. My hand flies the area where Cole had kicked. Shoot, had he cracked my rib? "This technique is from martial arts, used before The War and only accessible through books. Don't tell me Four taught you this, because it's not part of our curriculum." Eric states. He has an eyebrow quirked and questioning.

It makes sense Dauntless wouldn't use such a move set, considering that it_ is_ easier to shoot someone in the head than choke them till they pass out. It's that moment where I realized I fucked-up.

Do I tell him that my mother taught me? But being an ex-Dauntless, she isn't supposed to know the move. I can't say that I read it either, lest it raise flags on what I truly am. "My mom taught me the move, she learned it from her mother who was a martial arts freak." I lie. Mom learnt it from the books dad brought home, adamant to teach me non-lethal techniques to take down people.

"Sara Laker. The infamous Dauntless who transferred to Amity." Someone has been doing their research_. _How much does he already know about me?"I would've thought that she hated everything Dauntless stood for making it odd that she taught you techniques to fight." Trepidation settles in my stomach. I'm not sure where Eric is heading, but I don't like it.

"She never hated Dauntless, which is why she still volunteered to be an ambassador." He probably met her a few times. I hide myself swallowing by placing the empty glass onto the table beside me. 'Half-truths are the best lies.' My father used to tell me, explaining how the Erudite manipulate people. "She was running away from something; at least, that's what she told me." I school my face to feign casualness, shrugging my shoulders as if her actions confuse me as well. I see what Four sees in Eric now, a scheming, observant man. Yet, why do I still care about him?

Like a switch, his poker face disappears. "You did quite well back there." Despite the lightness in his tone, the uneasiness in me doesn't fade away. Instead, it only grows.

"Thanks. How's Cole?" I don't really care about the louse, but it's the first thing I can think of.

A scowl etches onto his face. _Maybe he doesn't see Cole as the star student._ He looks at me incredulously, as if I'm crazy for asking about my opponent's wellbeing instead of mine's."Alive. Though, too alive for my liking." There's a slight edge to his voice, reminding me of the ruthless man he is known for. "You suffered a cracked rib and a concussion." Makes sense_._ "I'm surprised you didn't pass out after hitting your head so hard earlier _and _still managed to knock Cole out." Eric has a hint of pride and arrogance in his words, slate-blue eyes bright and shining.

I would like to thank my dogs for building my endurance and pain tolerance. "Well he didn't hit me that hard, and the mat_ did _cushion my fall."

The mat didn't do shit_._

But I'm not going to tell him that, as it may expose my dogs and cause a chain reaction of stuff my fuzzy mind can't deal with.

"Right." Eric says flatly. Good that he doesn't believe me, for I don't even believe myself. "You're first now you know? Beating Cole gives you the right to that spot."

An ear-splitting grin fills my face. First for stage one… even with my pacifist methods… "Really?" My body shakes with excitement, trepidation from the earlier conversation evaporating quicker than saying the word 'first'.

"Really."

First.

I can't wait to tell mom tomorrow. Eric's smile mirrors my own. I can't figure out if it's because my happiness is contagious or he's truly proud of me; I don't bother to find out.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" My head is high on euphoria, all logical thinking flying out the window. Eric being happy makes his attractiveness increase tenfold, I could kiss him in glee. My back moves off the headboard to crawl to him, giddy with excitement of being the first. I'm about to hug him when my side burns up again. "Ah crap." I wheeze, slumping down pathetically. The young man chuckles, shaking his head as he sees the defeat killing my fire. I huff and cross my arms, pouting in pure irritation. "Stupid Cole." I grumble.

"Stupid Cole." He mimics squeakily, bottom lip out; a horrible imitation. Eric laughs some more as I glare back at him. I don't look _that _stupid. He stretches a tattooed hand across me to reach for the bedside table. "Here." A bottle of pills are in his hand. "Painkillers and for quick recovery. You should be good as new in five days tops." My eyes widen in shock.

Five days to heal a fractured bone?

I grab and pills and shake them around, large blue capsules stare back at me. "Take one after every meal, so three per day. The doctor already gave you a shot earlier, so you can start taking them tomorrow." My brows furrow. "Which should kick in about…" The trainer glances at the clock above the door, it reads 6:45pm. "…now." The moment the words leave his lips, the pain is gone. _Huh. _"And cooling pads, to reduce swelling." He hands me a brown cardboard box the size of a tissue box. "The packets are air-activated and only lasts about eight hours, I would suggest using all of it." I open the box to find individually sealed blue foil packets. An Erudite invention no doubt. There are small writings on the packets containing instructions on how to use it.

"Thanks." I say. He didn't need to do this.

Eric smiles. "No problem." He stands from the bed, the warmth next to my legs evaporating. He turns to towards the door, about to head out. "Oh." He pauses and looks over his shoulder. "Whatever you do, try not to skip. I don't want you back here again." He has a mischievous glint in his gaze. I frown.

…What?

* * *

For the first time in forever, I don't dread the blabbering of my acquaintances.

"Hi guys!" I pipe, a grin on my face as I place my tray down beside Jace. Four heads look up to me weirdly before exchanging each other looks. Is there something on my face?

"Hi Anna." Jace greets slowly, seeing that no one else was going to speak up. "Riley said you were in a pretty bad shape earlier…" He trails off, looking at the Candor skeptically.

"Oh! Yeah I did! But I won the match though." I point my fork at Jace before stabbing it into a piece of broccoli. "Cole's a pussy." I mumble under my breath, stuffing the vegetable into my mouth.

"What's the verdict from the doc?" Skylar asks.

I thought there were only nurses; maybe not. "The doc?"

"What did the person say when they let you out?" Riley rephrases. Why couldn't Skylar just say that in the beginning?

I swallow and stab another piece of broccoli. "Ah. Well Eric said I had a crack rib and it'll take about five days to heal." I chew thoughtfully. "Which is crazy since it would normally take like what… one, two months to heal? How advanced has Erudite technology gone?" I pause to continue munching, eyes on my food. "You know, I broke my arm when I was eight, fell from a tree and all. And that took me two months to heal. I wonder if I break my arm again, will it heal faster?"

"Eric?" Riley squeaks. She reminds me of a mouse, especially with her eyes so wide.

My eye twitches in minute she only listened to the first part?"Yes Eric. Our instructor? Yeah, he gave me the medication and stuff and blah blah, asking me not to skip around like a peace-drunk Amity. Who's he to tell me that! Do I look like a peace drunk Amity to you?" I throw my arms in the air, and the chicken on the fork flies to the floor. I grimace at the wastage. "I'm not! I'm the calmest and most collected person among the transfers. This guy has no idea what he's talking about." I huff in annoyance.

No one speaks for the longest time, all glacing between each other like they have telepathic abilities. I ignore them and continue eating. The chicken tastes delicious today. At some point my four acquaintances starts to whispering amongst themselves, but I'm too busy thinking about how Dauntless could use hamburgers. Don't get me wrong, the steaks and grilled chicken are good. My only issue is that they pretty much serve them every other day. The people here must've had their taste buds burnt off to consume something so and shepherd's pie are good alternatives too, and I briefly wonder if I could teach the chefs to make them one day, then decide it's a horrible idea.

* * *

"You need boots."

"I don't want boots!" I glare at Skylar defiantly. Boots are impractical _and_ heavy, there is no reason to have them. The both of us are shopping today, something about a promise I don't recall making and stage one of initiation being officially finished.

"You need boots." A ridiculously high-pitched voice enters my ears, it's the same cashier when I came on the first day. I have no idea how this girl survived initiation with a child's voice.

I glare between both of them, their newfound friendship irking me. "You guys can't pressurize me into anything! I don't want boots; therefore, I won't get them!" I stomp my foot on the ground, fists clenched to my sides.

Skylar sighs dramatically. She mumbles something about the 'shots in the infirmary' before placing the pair of overly-black boots on the counter. "She'll take a jacket too, as well as two pairs of tactical pants."

My jaw drops. "Hey! That's my points you're docking off! You have no right-mmf!" A hand clamps onto my mouth from behind, followed by a relatively small male arm. "Hmphf! Fhkmf!" The man drags me out of the store kicking and screaming. I contemplate licking the hand, but it's too icky for my liking.

"Thanks Jace!" Skylar yells from the store.

Why you little-

I elbow the boy in the stomach, smirking at the immediate grunt in pain. He drops me back on my two feet and I triumphally spin on my heels. "Asshole!" I curse out, pleased but also irritated. Jace splutters and coughs, bent over with his hands on his knees.

"You." Cough. "Were." Cough. "Causing a scene." He wheezes out. My pupils contract. Causing a scene? Jace must be blind, for obviously Skylar had started it.I'm merely a victim whose points is being stolen. I huff and take a step back, incredulous.

But what if I am making a scene?

"Whatever." I grumble, suddenly struck with embarrassment. "And your hands are gross by the way." With that, I turn on my heels, marching back to the dorms for a well-deserved sleep.

I assume they'll send the bags later.

* * *

**A/N  
**

**2nd shortest chapter :P **

**Having writer's block because I'm currently reading a vet fiction book and also spend my day at an equine hospital. I'm also distracted because there's a good looking vet here .-.**

**The writer's block is kinda stupid cause the scene I need to write is something I've been thinking about since the story started. **

**Side note: Now that I'm using VPN for this site, I'll reply to reviews privately :)**


	14. 14

Eric enters the dorm right when I exit the bathroom.

"Initiates!" His voice is unnecessarily loud, no doubt to scare everyone awake. Multiple beds jolt to life and a few curses fill the room. I would laugh at the sight but I'm unusually groggy this morning. "I want to give you some advice about today." He starts. It takes me a while to remember what today is: Visitation Day. _Right. _"If your families do make an appearance of course…" A few transfers flinch from their beds, making the malicious leader smirk. "which is highly unlikely. So, if they do turn up, best not seem too attached. It's easier for you and for them." The words fly out of my ears milliseconds after they entered. "We take the phrase 'Faction before Blood' very seriously at Dauntless, don't disappoint us." The leader's threat is loud and clear, though I probably won't follow it.

Grabbing the bottle of pills, I exit the room just like how Eric did – never once looking back. The apple is half eaten in my hand when I reach the Pit. Bursts of dull colors litter the Pit like clumpy sprinkles. It's easy to spot my family, since they are the only brightly colored ones in the whole area. Mom stands with a smile on her face, completely at home as she greets multiple people dressed in black. She wears an orange dress in pride, not allowing anyone intimidate her. There's someone else behind her, posture awkward and tall. John. Exhilaration surges through my veins as I practically run down the steps. I chuck the half-eaten apple into the bin, desperate to reach them. My body twists and squeezes through the throng of people, uncaring of who found their families and who didn't.

John is the first to spot me. His eyes light up in recognition as he steps away from my mother. I don't give him a second more before I launch myself at him. He smells of grass and fresh air – home. "Anna." He grunts out, hands immediately going to my head and over my shoulders. The sound of his voice makes tears brim my eyes. It's only now that he's here do I realize how much I miss him.

"John." Is all I manage to choke out. I blink away the moisture in my eyes; now is not the time for sadness. "You came." My hands squeeze his waist tighter. It's been a while since I've hugged someone I love.

"Of course I did you idiot." He snaps offendedly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He adds softer this time, giving me a reassuring squeeze. To be honest, it never crossed my mind that John would come. He had a family in Erudite after all, it isn't a surprise if he chose to visit them instead.

"Hi Anna." My ears perk at the familiar soothing voice, one that lulled me to sleep when I had nightmares as a kid. Mom. Untangling from John, I spin to embrace my mother gently. "You look beautiful." She whispers. She too smells of home, just with a touch of food. Her embrace is warm and intimate, something only shared between mother and daughter.

"Thank you." There's a permanent smile on my face, and I don't want to wipe it off.

After holding onto her for one more second, I step away so John can enter the circle. "So, how's Dauntless been treating you? It doesn't look like you've changed much, muscle-wise." He starts. I roll my eyes playfully. What he said is true – I haven't changed much. Having such a physically tedious life in Amity really prepared me for Dauntless, I don't even think I gained weight. So I tell them how initiation has been for me, how Four is a good instructor and how I used the techniques mom taught to take down my opponents. Mom's eyes beam when I mention that. I tell them about the group of friends I sit with, how they are rowdy and odd at times. I tell them about Riley, about how I'm not sure where our friendship stands. I leave out everything about Eric and Four being my somewhat friend, as well as the events of yesterday. By the time I'm done rambling, John's face has contorted in shock. I guess no one told him what Dauntless is like. "Oh! And I'm first too."

The Pit is roaring with noise by now, all the families finally having arrived. The three of us move towards the dining hall, agreeing that it'll be quieter there. Mom has a cooler bag in her hand that I didn't notice earlier. She brought food_. _"How's everything going back in Amity?" I ask. _More like, how's the dogs?_

John picks up on my hidden meaning. "The dogs are… well… they're alive for one." He winces, shrugging his shoulders.

"What?!" Panic fills me. _Is the peace-serum not working on them? _A million of scenarios run through my head, mostly resulting with the dogs dying from depression.

The man laughs and my mom chides him. "I'm kidding! Gosh!" He continues to laugh, face turning red. I can't relate to his mirth. John takes a moment to sober up and wipes a tear from his eye. "The dogs are fine. Sabre is a pretty good notifier by the way. He reminds me whenever I forget to give them their dosage by howling like a maniac. It's a bit annoying, but it works." I cringe. "They spend their days in Johanna's stable. I managed to train Hawk and Sabre to become messengers, they're pretty good at delivering stuff. Their memory of places is…" He presses his index on his thumb and kisses the fingers. "Magnific!" I laugh. "Gunner mostly stays in Johanna's office unless she wants him to pull wagons, he's a lazy one, isn't he?"

My shoulders roll. "Something's gotta give." I wouldn't change a thing about him.

"I think the dogs are fine, their new jobs have been keeping them busy. They miss you of course, which is why I don't bring them out to the fields in case they get all sad and glum. We head to the orchards or ranches now to burn their energy, Sam has agreed to let them herd the cows, since they're too big for the dogs to scare them shitless." A small smile graces my face. I'm glad my dogs are fine, knowing that they're doing alright makes me happy.

Mom unzips the bag and pulls out a glass container of mashed potatoes stacked onto of brown minced meat the moment we settle into one of the tables. "Figured that you may be food-sick." She says. _I am. _John excuses himself to get cutlery for us.

"Where's Dad?" I ask once he's out of earshot.

"Chasm." Is all she says. It takes me a moment to process her words but I understand. The chasm will drown out our conversation.

John arrives back with plates and cutleries. "I like your hair. Each color for each dog I suppose?" Mom takes the items from him and starts dishing out the shepherd's pie.

"You're the second one to guess it." Four was the first. It took him the following day to figure out the meaning behind them. I was genuinely surprised when it was the first thing he blurted out in the morning.

"Darn… Does that mean that someone here knows about them?" He asks.

My answer is intentionally vague. "Just a friend." John pouts and huffs.

A shadow passes over our forms, breaking our bubble. "Sara! It's good to see you again." I look up and blink; I had completely forgotten about Max's existence. "Is this your daughter? Anna, right?"

Mother stands and shakes the leader's outstretched hand. "Yes, she is. How have you been?"

The dark-skinned man only chuckles and shakes his head. "No need for the formalities, it's visitation day today, I'm sure we can catch up another time." That came out a bit weird. "I should've guessed it was your daughter. The news of an Amity transfer was quite a head-turner that day. Not sure why I didn't put the two and two together." His voice is too friendly, making me oddly apprehensive. _It could just be because they're friends. _The voice in my head reasons; I'm not so convinced. "I've heard great things about her from Eric." _Eric has been talking about me? _"Her fights are flawless, not a single bloodshed in either party. It's quite the talk among Dauntless, everyone wants to see it for themselves." Dread fills me. _Did I just unknowingly a target on my back? A pacifistic Dauntless just screams divergent. _

Mom covers my dumb ass. "Ah yes, I've taught her a few ways to knock a person out. Anna's quite squeamish when it comes to blood."

Max nods in thought. "I guess that makes sense. Four told me something along those lines when she freaked out during one of the fights." _Four is godsent. _Relief and gratitude floods through me, making my shoulders slump. I force a smile and shrug my shoulders, praying that I seem convincing. He buys it – I think. "Well then, I don't want to interrupt your day any longer. I hope you enjoy yourselves." The leader waves and spins on his heel, moving off to converse with a Dauntless passerby. Mom sits into her seat stiffly, registering the mistake in my actions. John starts up light conversation about the stores in the Pit. I'm grateful for the distraction.

* * *

"Your father's in Erudite. He's meeting with Becky, trying to see if he can get anything out on what's going on." We're at the chasm while John is stuffing himself with Dauntless cake. There aren't many families milling around, making it easy for us to converse quietly. Becky is dad's sister, who is also John's mother. She works closely with Jeanine, which makes sense why dad would go to her.

"Is she trustworthy though?" I whisper. One wrong move and dad could be exposed.

Mom shuffles closer and leans against the railing. "She was the one who introduced him to what's going on. I believe not everyone follows Jeanine like lost puppies. Becky is one of them."

I sigh in relief and force a laugh, making us seem like we're having casual conversation. My mind drifts back to the rooftop discussion I had with Four last week. "Jeanine may be building an army through Dauntless, which makes sense why the cut-system was implemented. I'm not sure how they're gonna pull it off though, but it's a good guess."

The shock she's feeling doesn't show, instead she grins widely and places a hand on my shoulder. "I'll inform Adrian about it." She says through a grin. _My mother is one heck of an actor. _"Stage one of initiation is over yes?"

"Yes."

She nods. In a heartbeat, I'm forced into a hug. "This is where you need to be careful. Stage two exposes your kind like sore thumbs." A shiver runs down my spine. "Eric has been travelling around the factions meeting with the 18 year-olds who've transferred. He took away one of ours, saying that his Candor mother was sick; it's been more than a week already." Every fiber of my body freezes. "The boy showed signs of divergence." My mind goes slack. _Eric is hunting divergents. _My breathing picks up and my hands start getting clammy. _He'll find out about me. _My knees buckle and I grab the railing for support. _And he'll kill me when he does. _"Hey hey. Shhh" My mother soothes. "You'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about. Deep breaths." I draw a long breath, forcing myself to calm down. "Listen to me. You're the most _capable _person I know." She whispers the words in my ear.

"I am capable." I repeat, continuing to breathe in deeply.

"You're the _smartest _person I know."

"I am smart." Her words engrave itself into my brain.

"And you're the _bravest _person I know."

"I am brave."

"And if there's _anyone _that will survive this." She pauses, squeezing my form reassuringly. "It's you."

"It's me." I suddenly remember something and burst out laughing. Mom pulls away questioningly, features worried before relaxing when she sees I'm not hysterical._Yet. _"Hey you know that song? It has a chorus that goes 'I will survive'?"

"By Gloria Gaynor?" Mom laughs and shake her head.

"Yeah. I think that's gonna be my anthem now." I lean against the railing and cup my chin. "Just the chorus though. The verses are not really applicable… or maybe just the phrase, now that I'm thinking about it…"

* * *

"Back so soon?" Four stands in the middle of the dorm. He holds a chalkboard and his clipboard on one hand.

"They had to go back early, there aren't many return trains to Amity." John was upset that they had to leave early. He made me promise him to bring Dauntless cake if I ever came to visit. I begrudgingly agreed. "Final rankings?" I ask.

"Yep. Did you come here to write them for me?" The corners of his mouth pull down to a scowl. I laugh.

"I suppose I did, yeah." I move to sit on my bed, hand stretched out and gesturing for the board. Four sits across me, passing me the blackboard and clipboard.

Anna

Cole

Isaac

Ruby

Mark

Riley

Joe

Jane

Riley may still be kicked. "You don't seem elated. I expected some squealing and jumping." Four says, passing me the chalk.

I shrug distractedly. "Eric kinda ruined the moment for me." He didn't; my cracked rib did. "Told me when I woke up after the fight."

Four blinks. "Ah." We lapse into a comfortable silence. I ponder upon how I'm going to survive hiding my divergence. I'm not even sure what stage two is. Will Eric be there? I assume stage two will have something to do with simulations, since that's where divergence is most identifiable. Eric said stage two is emotional, placing us in different scenarios maybe.

I pass Four back the board. "Will you be guiding us during stage two?" I'm beating around the bush.

He quirks and eyebrow. "Lauren and I, yes." I hum in response, unsure how I should bring up what stage two is and my divergence. _Will Four protect me? _My faith in Four relies on his hatred for Eric and his seemingly righteous intentions. As much as he is wary of Dauntless leadership, it doesn't translate to him helping people like me. _Does he even know who we are? _I stare at the man in front of me. His face is puckered as he pretty much glares at my writing, or is it the names of the initiates? It strikes me that Four doesn't show favor among any of the transfers. Despite being friends, he treats me indifferently with the rest.

Other than his mild distaste towards slow initiates, his emotions are pretty difficult to read. _Is Four divergent? _The gears in my brain shift as the question floats in my head. He's relatively conservative and quiet for a Dauntless. Then again, I've never actually seen him with other people outside of the training room. Stereotypically, Four doesn't match the ideal Dauntless; but I would be a fool to believe all Dauntless are the same.

I don't get the chance to ask. Four stands suddenly, face schooled into an emotionless mask. The door opens the next second and all the initiates file in. They chatter happily among themselves, something I could've related to if I was an ignorant clueless girl that I wish I was. Cole has a sling on his arm and glares at me; I try not to smirk.

"Initiates!" His instructor voice is back again. I find it slightly comical, the way how it's like an on-off switch. "These are your rankings for stage one. If you're ranked low now, it is still possible to pull up in stage two, though difficult. The cuts will be announced morning. Three of you may be cut or three of the Dauntless-born, or anything in between." He walks over to a wall where a nail protrudes. "Stage two start tomorrow morning, I'll collect you from the dining hall. Don't be late." With that, he flips the board in his hand and hangs it on the board.

Cole is the first to make a fuss. "How is the banjo-strummer first? She has never even thrown a single punch!" Good question, I'll give him that.

"Yet she is the only initiate who's remained undefeated." Four says matter-of-factly. Cole shuts his mouth, cursing under his breath. Four moves to stand in front of my bed, which is still in front of the gaping initiates. _Is he protecting me? _My gaze finds Riley. She has turned pale. I don't want to look at her any longer. Among the bottom three, she is the safest. Though, I can't deny the fact that the chances of the lower Dauntless-borns staying are much higher.

A girl chokes on a sob – probably Jane. My head perks up from my feet to confirm; it's Riley. I lean back so Four's form is blocking me. My eye twitches uncontrollably. The Amity in me tells me that I'm her friend, and that she did try to look out for me after my fight with Cole. But the Erudite is irritated; irritated by how she doesn't think before acting, for allowing a small possibility overwhelm her. I crane my head to look at Jane. She stands passively, pursed lips indicating that she knew what awaited her even before Four announced the rankings. What did Riley expect? The beast inside snarls viciously. Did she honestly think that defeating one person was enough to secure her place in Dauntless? I should feel guilt. For if I had volunteer to teach her earlier, she could've won more fights. But I don't.

It takes me a while but eventually I stand from my bed after composing myself. I move towards the now-sobbing girl and sling an arm on the petite girl's shoulders. "Come, let's just leave this and go have some fun." Riley doesn't reply but allows me to escort her out of the half-empty dorms. If there's one thing I do know for certain, is that Candor will _always_prefer to be around people than to wallow in self-pity alone.

* * *

**A/N**

**I afk-ed I know :P **

**Been writing a chapter for at least half a week, and its still not done :D**


	15. 15

Riley stays. I have mixed feelings about that.

"Joe." Lauren says. The lousy shooter rises from his seat and I watch as he shakes like a leaf all the way to the door. Me, Riley and Jace are the only ones left in the room. I'm not sure if someone is hinting at me to take out a few pages of 'how to be a romantic' from their book. Jace hugs the mousy girl close, whispering soothing words to her and how she'll do just fine.

"I'm surprised how calm you are." Jace says.

I look up from my kicking feet to meet his gaze. Both of them are pale and somewhat shivering. "I just act like I am." I reply simply. "Some say ignorance is bliss."

I am afraid. Four told us that we will be facing our fears in stage two. Even now, I can already name a few. My stomach churns heavily in me, clenching and twisting in ways that make me nauseous. My gaze goes back to my black-covered feet. They kick wildly in the air, like a bored child waiting for his mom to come pick him up from school. Four says that a person ranges between twelve to fourteen fears. I'm not sure I can through going each one of them unscathed.

The door creaks open. "Anna." A sudden chill shoots up my spine. Four stands leaning against the sill as he waits. It takes effort to plant my feet firmly on the ground. I stand and stretch, the muscles on my back protesting for being forced in an odd position for the past three hours. I focus on the aches as I move towards the room, forcing down the trepidation that's threatening to overwhelm me. Four steps aside and closes the door after I pass the threshold. I don't think I could've done that myself.

The room is small and anticlimactic. I expected something scarier, but that probably lies in the simulation. I'm about to take a seat in the chair that reminds me of my amplitude test when a new wave of fear courses through me. "Are there cameras here? Or any way another can hear us?" My words are jumbled and forced, much like vomit. I clench my hands to stop them from shaking.

"No." Four sits on the chair in front of the computer and rolls towards me. He staring at me deep in thought and waiting, observing me like a vet would do to an animal.

I take a deep breath and grab the arms of the simulation chair, slowly lowering myself down with shaky arms. Four places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. This gesture oddly comforts me, it's an 'I'm here for you.' I breathe in deeply a few more times, doing my best to calm my nerves. Here goes nothing. "Look I have to tell you something." I start. My voice is slightly stronger this time, driven by the will to survive and find help. "I'm-"

"Divergent." We say at the same time. My eyes snap to his in shock. _How did he figure it out? _Shock fades to panic in a heartbeat. My breathing rate picks up. _Is my divergence that obvious? Where di- _"I guessed it on the night where we met on the roof." The words make me freeze. His posture remains relaxed and unchanging. "The way you trained your dogs and deal with fights indicate that you are part Erudite." _It takes an Erudite to train the dogs like that? _"You mentioned that your parents are ambassadors, so the chances of them being previous transfers are pretty high. That kind of strengthened my suspicions about what you are."

"Is it obvious?" My voice is tight. Dread fills me as I think about how I've messed up already.

"Only if you're looking." I suck in a breath. _Shit. _"Don't worry about Eric. He's too busy admiring you and tracking the divergents in other factions to take notice of you." Four adds. I slump into my seat in relief. "Does he know about the dogs?" I shake my head. "Good. He'll be on the lookout during stage two, since the signs are most obvious now. Divergents are aware when they are in simulations, which gives them the ability to manipulate them. So as long as you don't do anything outside the laws of 'nature', you'll be fine." I nod my head and take a deep breath. His advice seems easy. Four rolls away to pick up a syringe from a tray. "The way a simulation ends is when you calm yourself down." Sounds like an easy task when you know it isn't real. "But for you, I would advise against that. Quick times are another indication of divergence, though not as definite, it will still raise suspicion."

"Why are you helping me?" I blurt out suddenly. As much as Four is my friend, it doesn't mean enough for him to risk himself as well.

He pauses; the syringe in his hand inches away from my neck. "Because you're the only person who I've met that believes in what I believe in." _What?_"Dauntless used to be much different many years ago. Now it's just a pathetic shell of what it used to be." _Right…_

Philosophical Four creeps me out. I'm not sure if I like him this profound. I assume he's referring to the night I quoted the Dauntless manifesto. I suppose I do believe in the manifesto. He has a point in Dauntless no longer living up to what it stands for, especially with the new leadership. I'm not longer given time to process his words when a sharp twinge occurs at my neck. I wince. _Thanks for the heads-up __buddy._

"Be brave." Is all I hear as darkness overtakes me.

* * *

I'm standing in my bedroom back in Amity. Everything is exactly where I left it. I look around confusingly, having no recollection of how I got here. My mind rakes for answers but only reaches a dead end. Growing frustrated, I decide to look around my room instead. My feet carry me to my desk, the pictures exactly where I had stuck them months ago. I pluck out a small photo of the puppies. The three canines are tangled in a mess, teeth biting each other's ears as they play. But that's not what catches my eye. It's holes. Specifically, ones on my hand.

Lots of them.

My throat rips out into an ear-piercing scream, one that hasn't been made since I fell from the tree. I drop the image and shake out my hands like tiny circles aren't etched on my skin. They don't come off. The screaming doesn't stop as my feet stumble to the bed, body colliding onto the mattress.

Logical thinking and reasoning kicks in. _Maybe it was just a hallucination. _I force myself to look at my hands again, the glimpse of hope immediately crushing. _Definitely not._

Pure terror courses through me in waves as the vivid image continues to stay when I shut my eyes. I make a mistake of clenching my hands together. I _feel_them. The indents and bumps indicating the missing pieces of flesh. I want to grab my hair, but I squeeze my arms to my sides. My body shakes as I continue to lie on the bed, too fearful to look or move. I lay stiff as a board while the minutes ticks by, my throat now sore from screaming too much. My teeth are clenched together grinding uncomfortably, but still not enough to distract me.

_Think. _I yell in my head. _Think. _With my brain somewhat churning, the fact that I'm in my old room returns. _My family should be here somewhere. _Taking a deep breath, I yell coherently this time. "Mom!" Time ticks by, yet there is no familiar sound of footsteps. "Mom!" I try again, slightly more frantic. "Mom I'm sick!" She would always come running when I say that.

Then like a bucket of ice water being dump on me, I realized that were she here, she would've come the moment I started screaming. "Crap!" I curse. My hand smacks over my eyes, feeling utterly hopeless. Then I remember the condition of my palms. Shrieking, I tear my hand from my face and snap it to the side.

_Be brave. _Four's voice is like a wisp of wind; fleeting that I almost missed it. _Be brave; be brave; be brave. _With shaky hands, I muster the strength to look at them. Hundreds of dark open holes dot my hands, too deep to appear like craters. My head starts spinning and my stomach churns violently. _Screw Four. _I only manage to bend over to the edge of the bed before mushed apple and liquid exits my mouth. I grab the wooden frame before letting go immediately, the way surface isn't smooth makes me retch some more. I'm reminded of my fight of Cole as my stomach empties itself over and over again. I hate the feeling.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I crawl away and force myself to stand. A trip to the bathroom will help pull my shit together. I don't make a step forward before I'm screaming again. This time, it's my feet. Black holes stare back at me, depthless and uncountable. My heart pounds against my chest painfully as I scramble back onto the bed. Snatching a pillow, I muffle my screams with it, uncaring that I'm getting puke all over it. The images of my palms and feet cloud my mind, causing gooseflesh to run up the entire length of my body. I feel the acid in my stomach burning me, causing a new wave of nausea. I start slamming my head into the pillow over and over, trying to rid of the disgusting images of my mind. I don't relent, neither do they. Tears are already soaking the pillow by the time I stop the assault on the pillow. Completely, utterly, hopeless.

I want my would force me feel better; curl up by my side and lick the tears away until I laugh.

I want my dogs. They would find help once sensing the fear and being unable to locate the source of danger.

And they _aren't_here. But they should be. A new emotion rips through me, slicing through all the fear and disgust: Anger.

* * *

I jolt upright from the vinyl seat, lifting up my hands to check for any holes. Nothing. I clench them together and twist frantically to see if my eyes are playing tricks. They had felt real moments ago. They _were _real moments ago.

"It was just a sim." My heart skips a beat at the sound. Four.

My hand flies over my erratic heart as I slump back in my seat. Reality and logic tries to reason with me, but they fail. "They were real, and I still feel them." My lip trembles as I whisper the words. The holes – hundreds black, soulless eyes – engrained in the back of my mind. I hug my knees to my chest and hide my face between them. "They were real." I repeat shakily, tightening my arms.

"Anna."

I don't reply.

"Anna, you're fine. Your hands are fine, your feet are fine." My head whips out of my pod. _Did he watch everything? _Four is still in the roller seat, but this time he's next to the computer. His lips are pursed on one side – pitiful. Humiliation hits like lightning, capricious as they come. Blood rushes to my face as the thought of him watching me vomit and scream dances in my head. I cover my face with my hands and groan, internally dying from embarrassment. His words seemed to have done their trick, since all fear and panic has been replaced with mortification. The sound of my heartbeat starts subsides and so does my breathing rate. I'm not sure to thank him or strangle him.

I do neither, since my brain is back up and running. "How long?" I ask; trepidation gnaws at me.

"Honestly I'm shocked. I would have thought you've been faster; divergent and all." _Am I not divergent enough now? _"Fifteen minutes, forty-eight seconds; just a tad bit faster than the twenty-minute average."

"Well I'll have to thank you for that." I grumble.

His face brightens considerably. "Why, you're-"

"Your 'be brave' speech made me puke my guts out." I interrupt flatly. _A blessing in disguise I suppose._

Four deflates like a balloon. "I'll keep that in mind next time." He replies sourly, face twisted to a scowl.

I can't help but chuckle at his dramatic shift of mood. "But really, thank you, for everything." Four rolls his eyes; but eventually, the corners of his mouth lifts.

* * *

"Yours?"

There's a brief pause. "Snakes." Riley mumbles. My head jerks slightly on surprise. Snakes are typically found in Amity, I can't imagine why she would be afraid of something she hasn't encountered. _Just like your hands? _A voice counters back. Peering back at my smooth palms, a shudder rushes through me like a cold wind. I don't want to ever go through that again.

"There are snakes in Candor?" Skylar cocks her head to the side, predictably baffled.

Riley's cheeks twinge pink. "I heard some Amity talking about it over lunch in school last year. They were describing how it almost bit them if their dog didn't step in."

_Whoops. _I was adrenaline-drunk that day, suddenly finding the urge to blurt out my encounter with people I've never cared to greet. The girls around me were gasping in horror as I describe how the snake didn't slither away and rose a foot off the ground. I left out the fact that snakes don't normally attack people, unless as an act of self-defense. It was nice to see something other than sick glee wash across their faces. "It didn't help that the science class I had after that was on these reptiles." I want to laugh, but I surprisingly managed to swallow it down.

The sudden hush that cascades through the hall alerts me of the leader's entrance, causing my heart to speed up and create spasms that courses through my body. The excitement of seeing him makes my eyes brighten. But that quickly diminishes; Eric climbs down the steps, face twisted into a scowl. My brows snitch together as I access his mood; confusion sweeps over me like a wave. The young leader had been showing signs of improvement since Capture-the-flag, minus being more tired than usual. According to the grief cycle, I'm unsure where he lies in bargaining, depression and acceptance. My bet should be on depression, but Eric doesn't seem like one to let go easily.

I sigh; I shouldn't be paying unnecessary attention to the man tasked to kill divergents. It would be a disgrace if mother's advice to fell on deaf ears.

Inhaling slowly, I picture myself shutting all thoughts of the young leader into a box and locking it. The key is thrown into the lakes in Amity, where muck and water will bury it deep; never to be found again.

It's the shrill call of my name that pulls me from my imagination. Riley speaks with her mouth full of food; it disgusts me.

My eye twitches. "Pardon?" I ask almost tensely, but still politely; Johanna would be proud.

Riley chews with her mouth open; I'm officially grossed out. It's a wonder how I didn't notice such a despicable habit when I first met her. My will to shut her up then must have overcame all other senses. "What's your fear?"

I blink. The question shouldn't surprise me, since that's all we've been talking about since lunch started. But it does, and I'm not sure why. "Disease." My reply is vague and hopefully boring enough for the Candor to move on. Unlike shaken-up me, Riley is a wreck; her hair is sticking up in various places from where she tugged at the roots; her usual bright hazel eyes are now dull and swollen. _Were the snakes that bad? _Giving her another cursory glance, it dawns on me that I'm not sure how I look. My hand immediately reaches behind and tug the hair tie loose. "Best not know, lest you start fearing them too." I didn't mean to say anything more, but the awkward silence was unsettling.

By the third wave of boredom and dread that sprouted from listening to the initiates describe their fears, I give into my desires and scan the hall for my eye-candy. Killer or not, a hot guy deserves the attention he earns.

It takes me longer than usual, mainly because there's actually someone sitting across Eric. A man with silver hair talks animatedly to the slightly more relaxed but still scowling leader. From the back, the man's hair is shaved at the sides as well. But unlike Eric, his mid-portion is long, hanging off his forehead slightly. Silver's build is just a tad bit leaner than Eric, who's packed with drool-worthy muscle. My mind wonders briefly on how these men met since from afar, they already seem like polar opposites.

I stay rooted on my seat, curiosity and theories of the history between the men overlapping each other. It's the first time I'm seeing Eric interact with someone outside of training; more often than not, he spends his meals alone in the hall or not at all. I chide myself for assuming that the leader had no friends. Eric is no abandoned puppy with no one to turn to; he's a fully functioning person who does normal things too.

My staring feat ends when the silver man rises from his seat. His features are sharp and undeniably handsome in their own way. The beard he wears is a five-o' clock shadow – meticulously trimmed and shaved to make his cheekbones pop. Eyebrows are thick and angular, creating a mysterious and sexy vibe that could sway me if I didn't already have my eyes set on someone else. Green eyes snap to mine the moment it leaves the grumpy leader, an indication that he knows who I am.

_Huh. _As if grown accustomed to stares, my face locks and my head cocks to the side; an unintentional challenge. Silver merely grins at me before turning back to the leader, talking with his lips pulled to his ears. The sitting man merely shrugs a shoulder, feigning indifference; at least, I would like to think he is.

I don't sleep much that night, even despite being by the wall. Muffle sobs and heavy breathing prevents sleep from overtaking me. I pray that it will only get better from here. How foolish I was.

* * *

**A/N**

**I think I'm having writer's block .-. I'm way behind in writing because I'm not sure how Anna and Eric should react :D And I am unable to think about it in my free time cause the internship saps the energy out of me. If this keeps up, I think I'll only be able to update every few days cause that's how long its taking me to write a single chapter (Last time used to be 1.5 per day .-.)**

Shout out to Onesinglebird for your reviews! I really appreciate them, it's a nice sight to wake up to. :)


	16. 16

I'm about to take a seat when my name is called.

Lauren stands holding open the door to the room. The sound of my name is foreign to my ears; it's the first time Four isn't overlooking me.

It's also the first time I'm going first. My legs don't move and my brain doesn't work. I've been the last few initiates to be picked these past three days, so what makes today special? The dark-haired instructor turns impatient, repeating my name with underlying contempt. A hand forces me forward, resulting in my feet stumbling over each other.

The Dauntless instructor throws me an insult that falls on deaf ears; _someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. _I look around the room warily, but it is unsurprisingly identical to Four's. Climbing onto the metal chair, apprehension claws at my consciousness as I try to figure out why I'm here. The thought of voicing my curiously plays teasingly at my mind, though it is the caution that prevents the execution.

The dubiously color liquid enters my field of vision before disappearing to my neck. It is at that moment I make a random note for alcohol to be applied at the injection site.

* * *

"Eleven minutes, fifteen seconds." _Does Four do this to the other initiates too? Inform them of their times robotically? _I sit up and pat my cheeks with the back of my cold hands. Today's fear was my first abstract one; I'm not sure which I prefer.

My calves are stiff as boards and a brisk glance at the now-blank computer screen tells me that my face is as white as a sheet. Even though the thick hoodie hugs me securely, I feel cold inside. Only when Lauren grips my arm and hauls me out of the chair, do I exit the room independently.

I immediately regret stepping past the threshold.

"I'm taking you to Amity." Every muscle in my body tenses at the baritone voice.

I take a step back to the door, but it slams shut as I bump into it. _Bitch. _Holding my breath, I slowly look up to the Dauntless leader. Eric stands relaxed a few feet away in his sleeveless vest, hands deep in his pockets – the epitome of perceived casualness.

_'He took away one of ours, saying that his Candor mother was sick. It's been more than a week already.' _My mother's warning flit wispily in my ears. _'The boy showed signs of divergence.' Eric knows. _My chest constricts painfully at the revelation. Eric must know of what I am for him to bring me out. Never have I ever seen him bring a transfer back to their faction of origin. The air is starting to suffocate me now; the same substance keeping me alive has disappeared, leaving behind a small fraction to tease. I need to escape. My back presses into the door behind me, clinging onto the pathetic hope that Lauren would let me in.

_But Four would. _My eyes zero in on the door to my right. It's a good distance away but a head start will get me there. _I will survive._

I barely make a step to the side before I'm roughly grabbed by the arms. Panic takes over as I shriek and kick out, managing to hit something soft but firm. Flashes of my sim-father cloud my vision, '_How could you?'_. It's as if the fear sim is mocking me now that I can't run from reality. The calloused hands around my arms tighten.

A caged feral dog; that's what I've become. '_After everything that we've done for you... After everything everyone's done for you...' _My back is struck with cold air before being pushed against the freezing wall. I've failed them; I've failed them_._A hand covers my mouth as I'm about to scream, muffling the tone undetectable. Eric's body is pressed up against mine, rendering my legs useless for escape. Spews of curses fall of the Dauntless leader as he retrains me with himself. I struggle back, using all the resources and mobility I have to throw him off. But he's an unmoving rock. Nevertheless, I continue to fight back and yell into his hand, praying that Four will come save me.

No one does. I'm full blown panicking now, every warning bell in my head going off like wildfire. There is a loud ringing in my ears and my vision is blurry, rendering both senses useless. My uncoordinated mind rakes through my memory, trying to pull out anything mother has taught me to escape from situations like these. But unlike in training, the intention here is to kill; and that is enough to fog every technique I've learned.

"Fuck Anna, what's gotten into you!" Is what he yells after my forearm has been twisted behind and my cheek is against the wall. As much as I shouldn't say this, I am grateful that the fight has ended. All energy has been sapped from my body, mentally and physically. This is where Eric will take me to anywhere except Amity, most likely to execute me like he did to Amar – Four's divergent instructor – and the Candor boy. "Fucking hell. Is this somehow linked to your fear sims?" His question is sharp like a bark, but has an underlying hint of weariness.

"No."

His response is without hesitation and with a growl. "Liar." I blink. "You know, here I was thinking that you would be prancing around when I told you Johanna wanted to see you." He steps away and rubs his face harshly. There is a small bruise forming on his forearm, one that no one would notice unless they inflicted it.

Johanna wants to see me. Either he is actually taking me to Amity; or a really good liar.

But questioning him will only raise more red flags. "Go change." He snaps. "Preferably something with pockets and boots." No time is given for me to reply as he shoves me towards the dorms, phone already by his ear.

Eric stands outside the dorm snapping orders and sarcastic remarks through the mobile. He's in a foul mood, with the cause being me and whoever's on the other end. The veins that are usually inconspicuous under the tattoos stand out unmistakably now. I pity the person on the receiving end. A clenched fist is held out in front of me. "Take this." There is a moment of hesitation from me, since I am still leery of his intentions. "For protection." He adds on impatiently. I expected a gun, since a gun would be an obvious choice as a weapon of self-defense. Instead, a metal bar falls into my hand – a pocket knife. My eyes snap to his in shock but his back is already to me; never once did I voice out my preference for blades over firearms to anyone.

* * *

It's only when I see the familiar orchards do I believe his claim and apologize.

He doesn't reply; eyes never straying from the road. Eric's perpetual scowl has yet to cease, keeping the air in the Caiman truck tense. I sit at the edge of my seat, regretting my choice of choosing shotgun. My boots are tight and stiff on my feet; a subtle torture device. The pants are no better with their baggy feel throughout, a far cry from the leggings and skirts I wore my whole life. The rough material of the pants makes it feel heavy, draggy and hot – every adjective about clothing I dislike; well, with the exception of sparkly.

When the truck rolls to a stop meters away from the barn I realize something: my dogs are here. _Did something happen to them that Johanna requested for me? _My fingers curls around the edge of my seat. There were a million things that could go wrong; injury, sickness, lash-outs, depression, disappearance, death. A ball forms at my throat, one I can't swallow. I shouldn't have left them.

The door is thrown open, revealing a very infuriated Eric; the scowl on his face seems like a permanent fixture. I stumble out of the vehicle before he can say anything, too distracted to even mumble a thanks. The ground is soft and familiar, a stark difference to the uneven concrete my new faction has to offer. I don't make a step when a hand grips painfully at my forearm. "We take Faction over blood-"

Irritation sparks in me; I've just about had it. "Yeah I know." There are more important matters to attend to than his stupid speech.

But the consequences of my actions only register the moment his nostrils flare. _Shit. _The moment he takes a step forward, I start to understand why everyone is afraid of him. Eric towers over me by almost an entire foot, breathing ragged as he tries to get a grip. My back hits the metal truck, reminding me of earlier outside of the sims room. But unlike then, Eric is the one who initiated it now. I'm definitely in deep shit. "You-"

He's cut off by a noise, one that didn't come from me. 'Thup.' Something just landed on the truck.

It's the body that anticipatedly brushes past my legs that confirms my hunch. My blood runs cold. Everything is starting to roll out just peachy. Why did I not put up more of a fight when we were leaving Dauntless? "Do. Not. Move." Each syllable is strained and robotic, a small comparison of the dread I'm experiencing. I dig my hand into the mass of fur to restrain the dog. It jolts beneath me, releasing a snarl that tears through the air.

Forcing myself to think, the index and middle finger touch my thumb as I count; one above, one in front.

_Crap; crap; crap. _There is something dangerous about Sabre when he's in hiding, for it means that whoever's getting the end of his jaws will never see it coming. The grey dog has the hunting instincts of a wolf, making him ridiculously deft at being a predator. Green grass greet me from both sides, stretched out far with no patch of silver in sight. At this point in time, there is only one thing I can do. "Hold!"

A beat of nothing passes and the leader still stands unscathed. Another snarl enters my ears as I sigh in relief. _Thank the heavens._This was a close call. Though my dogs have been programmed to only engage in hostiles at command, they are _still_ animals, and animals may get ahead of themselves sometimes.

The fur beneath my palm continues to jolt forward, snapping its jaws before recoiling like there's a chain restraining him. Eric's eyes are wide; I'm just glad he's still alive. "Back off." I raise my voice over the snapping; it stops. A familiar coat of black and brown moves to stand in front of me, forcing the man to take a few steps back. Hunter doesn't stop there, continuing forward step by step and flashing his teeth warningly, hackles raised. "Hey! Hey! Ears down." The dog pauses with a paw in the air but doesn't back off, bending its forelegs slightly like a lion stalking its prey.

All tension is broken when a howl sounds from behind the stunned leader. The outcry is deep and throaty, no doubt travelling for miles on end. A grin spreads throughout my cheeks as all dread and worry flies out the window; I'm home. Pure delight blossoms from my chest, pushing all the thoughts of the leader and the almost-mishap far far away. Two weeks. It's been almost two weeks since I've been separated from my fur babies, since I've went on an adventure or cuddled with them. I'm glad the wait is over.

'Tack, tack, tack, tack, tack' Is the sound a dog's feet makes on metal – uncoordinated and never-ending. "Hi Hawk." My voice takes on a babyish-tone, one I only use on them. The dog lands in front of me, tail wagging so hard that its entire body follows with it. He's doing the excited dance on the spot; body shaking, feet pattering, tongue lolled to the side. "Hi." I'm down to the dog's level before he can jump on me, hands grabbing his furry face as he surges forward to greet me. "Hi." Giggles explode within me as Hawk licks my face and then starts pushing his side against my chest. He spins round and round frantically, rubbing his fur all over my front before settling two paws on my shoulders. My arms go around him as he pants in my left ear, short clip whines escaping between quick breaths. He's such a cutie. Before I know it, I'm spinning him in circles. Hawk barks and licks my face, for once not minding being treated like a lap dog.

I only put the dog down once I felt my grip slipping through his fur. It is then do the deafening howls cease for a minute before erupting again much closer to me. Sabre has his muzzle vertical to the sky, front paws alternate on being lifted slightly. "Sabre." I crawl to him with Hawk still hopping and attacking me. "Sabre, hey." Gentle movements pull the dog's head down to my eye level. "Hey big boy." I coo, a hand going up to stroke his ear. The dog stops howling immediately and barks once. His front body drops to the ground with his ass shaking in the air – a comical sight. Cocking his head to the side for a millisecond, he takes off without warning. The hyperactive dog kicks of the dirt on the ground, dashing off at neck-breaking speeds in large ovals. Every time he comes a circuit which ends with dashing past me, he tackles poor Hawk, jaws closing loosely around one of his legs before taking off again.

My final dog stays rooted where I last saw him. The fur on his neck are no longer perked but his ears are trained towards the dangerous man. "Gunner." His ear twitches in recognition but other than that he doesn't move a muscle. Its only when I'm sitting on my heels in front of him does his composure collapse. Gone is the trained protector, replaced by what some may call as a 'pathetic puppy'. His ears lay flat against his skull and his elbows bend; a position who if anyone saw, won't believe his capabilities. This mighty beast had warp into a whimpering mess, making my heart ache for him. Arms hug Gunner close to me, tears springing my eyes as the reality of how much I've missed them hits. I am overwhelmed by the feelings of homesickness and regret. Unlike Hawk, Gunner doesn't put his paws on my shoulder; instead, he remains seated, face buried into my chest with a single paw pawing my thigh. Sobs wreck through me like how the whimpers wreck through his, raw and overwhelming. "I'm so sorry." I choke it out like he understands my words, because deep down I know this intelligent being does. Gunner continues to push against me, trying to get closer even though there's no space left between us. My lips are on his fluffy head, murmuring endearments and comforts. His coat is soft like a cloud, just like how I remembered it to be, reigniting the nights where he would lay by my side like an oversized teddy. Those nights were the ones I love the most.

Of course, since these dogs were born, no misery ever lasted long. The other two broke our bubble of gloom – a self-appointed duty they never failed to do. They nudge my cheeks and neck accompanied by hot breaths in the ear, just enough for me to chuckle and push them away.

"Now this, is the reunion I've been waiting for." My ears prick at the soothing voice.

I hastily erase traces of sadness before turning to my previous faction leader. "Thank you." The expression lacks the emptiness it usually holds when used as courtesy.

A hand extends to my face in assistance to pull me up. Like most Amity greetings, I'm pulled into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home."

* * *

Turns out, Johanna had requested for me in exchange for Eric to meet her over new security implements – or so I'm told.

I had forgotten about the young man until he cleared his throat, startling me. Eric hasn't really moved from the spot Gunner back him into. It appears that he is stunned **and**more relaxed than normal, an odd expression considering that he was basically threatened minutes ago. Johanna greets him stiffly, which would be hard to tell if one didn't see her interact with the rest of the general Amity population.

Keeping up her end of the bargain, Johanna leads us to her office-stable so they may discuss in privacy. Eric never once spare me a glance since the dog incident. Though such ignorance should turn my mood downhill, the dogs were too distracting for that to happen. Gunner stays almost pressed to my side; nose constantly nudging my hand for pets. The other rascals tackle and takedown each other, making me think that they skipped their morning exercise.

John is at the stables when we enter. In his hands is a large cardboard box, one that goes from his waist to chin. "Kelly made these for them." He pipes excitedly after the two leaders had left. Kelly is an Amity woman just a year younger than John. She makes all the harnesses, clothing, and equipment dogs may need throughout their life. Her expertise on this area and imagination to create new gadgets has made her well respected among the faction, even at such a young age. So naturally, any new items from Kelly was sure to perk me up.

The first appliance is called the 'loop muzzle'. It looked nothing like the ugly fully covered plastic muzzles that I used when the dogs were adolescents. The contraption was simply a collar with a loop that goes around the base of the snout. It prevents biting without restricting actions like eating, drinking and panting. The loop around the muzzle is padded and small in width, making the dog look less vicious compared to if it wore a basket muzzle. As if it weren't already amazing enough, the side-release buckle can be easily swapped out with a pull-release one. "Easy deployment." John says smugly as the nylon falls off Gunner's snout with a swift thug.

The following items are two types of vests, both for very different uses. The improved tactical vest has a sleeker and smaller design with hidden compartments underneath to slip in small knives or messages. Small packs can be attached to the vest separately, allowing versatility in all situations. Then there is the 'work' vest – courtesy of John for converting my dogs into messenger pigeons. Like the tactical vests, these too are very versatile. The sides are covered with one-sided buckles to allow switching between packs of all sizes. These vests cover almost the entire back of the dog, unlike the tactical ones that end behind the shoulders. The work vests are much more padded, no doubt to cushion and distribute heavy weights. D-rings are also fitted to either side of the vest, two on each side. To top it off, each vest comes in three colors. Army green for Gunner; black for Sabre; mud for Hawk.

And last but not least, a brand-new bite suit. John was most excited over the new sack of black Nanotech, wiggling into it with slight difficulty before calling Sabre over. This new and improved clothing is much less baggy and sleeker compared to its holey counterpart.

To my defense, I had to stitch up the previous bite suit using boot shafts farmers used. The wellingtons were made by the Erudite for the farmers after snake-bite cases increased. Building such armor required my blood, sweat, and tears as I had to cut them up and then snitch them together; it didn't help that its most prominent property was 'impenetrable'. I wonder how Kelly managed to get ahold of such a carefully regulated material.

Sabre latches onto the renowned punching bag's propped arm after a clipped command. John lifts the beast from the ground, his suit barely hanging down from the weight. "It's amazing isn't it." He wheezes, swinging the dog side to side while it violently jerks its head. "It's just loose and soft enough to mimic human flesh, but not enough to make me trip over my feet."

I grunt. A twinge of mild annoyance flares in me. Never has John complimented my bite suit like he did to Kelly's.

Feeling a little salty, I purposely let Sabre have his go on him before calling him off. Without the added weight, John slumps onto the wall, beads of sweat already trailing down his forehead. Sabre trots up to hug me standing, his energy levels finally low enough to properly welcome me back. The unexpected mass makes me stumble back slightly. _Has he gained weight? _"What have you been feeding them?" I look over to my cousin while trailing a hand down Sabre's ribs. _Yep, definitely gained weight._

"Just an adjustment on food." He says. My eye twitches. The meal plans for my dogs was meticulously constructed by me and dad after hours of research and months of trials. "Adrian and I have been experimenting on grounded meat, so it's more easily packable and transportable when the dogs head to Dauntless." Now my lips twitch instead. I guess that's thoughtful of him. "It's essentially the same proportions as to what is usually given, minus the bones that are still given at the side. I must have mixed up the amounts, since it's easy to overestimate when it's compact." John has gone into his Erudite mode, all analytical and calculating. "I'll have to weigh them and translate their mass into weight of food given. 90% of the meal is meat and organs yeah?"

"Yes. Oh, and you could add the supplements in too."

His face perks up and he points at me. "Right… that would make a ton of things easier." He grabs a cloth to wipe off the saliva on the suit. "We could vacuum pack to make the meats last longer. Maybe a week?" I don't get to reply or thank him as he picks up the box and carries it off, talking to himself whenever he's given a challenge.

* * *

Eric decides to stay for lunch.

I'm shocked, to say the least. It's pretty obvious that the young leader has never agreed to such a horrendous request before by the sneer he gives to every hippie he passes. Gunner stands between me and the man, effectively creating space that isn't necessary in such a packed area. Eric hasn't particularly spoken or acknowledge me yet, but at least he isn't treating me like everyone else – with contempt and brashness.

Even with all the sneers and frowns, there were still whispers that occasionally popped here and there. I wouldn't been bothered by it if it weren't for the fact that they came mostly from girls; single girls. At that realization, Eric's mood seeps into mine. A scowl plasters onto my face as I glare at the dazed girls. They aren't even the slightest bit bothered; _bitches_. Killer or not, the women don't deserve to have or ogle him.

Without a hint of bashfulness, I slide my tray closer him and shuffle my ass down the bench. The chewing beside me stops briefly before starting back up again, I'm not sure if he's smirking.

A hard kick at my shin makes me yelp, dropping my burger to rub the sore area. Gunner is propped up on the bench in a second, alarmed and facing Eric. I pat his shoulder twice and turn to glare at John who sits across me. My cousin's eyes are wide, looking at me crazy. I do my best to mimic his expression childishly before going back to my food.

A familiar flash of orange from my peripheral causes my hand to dart out. "Don't eat that." The dinner roll lays dejectedly on the plank table. "Contains peace serum."

Eric coughs into his fist. "Thanks."

The steak knife is back in my palm, viciously slicing through the apple in my other hand. Most of the Amity girls didn't look away when I had practically proclaimed that Eric's mine. So, I decided that some danger would do the trick. The process is simple: Make sure to hold their gaze; send the blade through the poor fruit with an exaggerated speed; wait for them to look away petrified; give the apple slice to Gunner.

I repeat the process until no one was gaping at the handsome leader. Johanna eats with a smile on her face while John still has that crazed look. When I drop the knife and apple core do I realize that Eric had finished his meal much earlier and was blatantly watching the show. He has a full-blown smirk now, one so big that I can see it when his head isn't to me. I clear my throat awkwardly, having the urge to excuse myself. It takes me a while to figure out what to say but I managed. "Thank you Johanna, for the hospitality." My voice is robotic but it'll to do.

* * *

John takes slightly longer to restrain the dogs who know that me heading towards the truck equates to me leaving them behind; times like these are when they are too smart for their own good. The peace-laced treats have yet to kick in their systems, which means that they are currently jolting and yowling from the barn.

I cringe as I pull the door shut. Eric sat in the car watching the whole ordeal. He had a cocky smirk on the whole way back to the truck, making the idea of him consuming some peace serum not too far-fetched. When it was time for us to depart, he told me softly to take my time with the dogs, saying that he'll wait in the truck. His words took a while to sink in as I'm not used to the tone, so I stupidly blinked at him. "Ah." Was all I manage to throw out. It was a pleasant surprise; for I've never seen the malicious leader show a gentler, caring side in front of other people.

My farewell with my dogs consisted of me promising that I'll be back. But judging by how Hawk suddenly started yowling, I don't think they understood. Sabre quickly caught on the situation and started tugging at the collar John was gripping. My poor cousin was lurched back and forth from the weight like a ragdoll, which I would've found amusing if my heart didn't hurt to leave them again.

It was Gunner who put a stop to the Belgian Malinois' antics. The largest beast rose mightily, lifted his tail, puffed out his chest and snapped at the two hounds. Though his efforts did help John to regain his composure, the dogs were back at it after mere seconds of cowering.

I wait for the yowling to stop – which was a long time – before speaking up. "They can be a bit… loud… Sorry." The dogs are making horrible impressions for the person who will somewhat decide their fate in a week and half – once initiation ends.

Eric's facing front, towards the stable and dogs. His head is slightly tilted in fascination. "They seem pretty… attached." He says distractedly. "Yours?"

This conversation is starting to get weird. "Err yeah." I wring me hands together, unsure of his seemingly calm mood. Honestly, I expected him to snap at me. For spending pretty much all my time here with the dogs, Johanna and John; for going against the whole 'Faction over blood' crap. Throughout the whole visit, I barely stuck by the leader; and it wasn't because Gunner was nudging me a safe distance away, though it was a good visible excuse. My time and energy were spent on catching up with John and the latest nifty tricks he taught my hounds. Though some were impressive, like grabbing items when pointed at, most were unflattering.

"Look, look, look!" Is the phrase he uses that braces me to cringe. One of his 'greatest' accomplishments is when he forms a circle with his fingers and the dog will stick his snout in it. "You so smart eh? Yes, yes, a very smart smartie." He coos after every successful attempt, squishing the dog's face together as the tail wags. I try to stand behind my cousin when he exhibits his tricks; gives me the freedom to grimace without offending. In retrospect, I _suppose _that these tricks could come in handy for the dogs when they get to Dauntless; I'll just need to figure out in what way.

Eric's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Why leave?" He's still staring at the barn where my dogs had disappeared into. "You have everything you want here." His voice is curious but has a slight distaste. Picking up on his tone, I choose to thread carefully.

My head leans against the window as I relax into my seat. "No, not everything." I say quietly. These two words can be interpreted differently depending on the person. The first – the thrill of adventure. Despite Amity being the biggest faction area-wise, there wasn't much to do other than farming, singing and dancing. Even with all the trees and natural landscapes, normal apple-pickers don't venture out from the comfort of the fields. Dauntless though, offers adrenaline rushes with a sense of danger. Train jumping and protecting the city is sure to keep one on their toes, for one can't slack when doing such tasks. Ask me two years ago, and this would be my answer – that Amity was dull. But now with my dogs, I've spent hours at places that were left untouched. Curious ones, these beasts; they would dive head first when we approach a forest and it's hard to not follow them. With my dogs providing safety and fun simultaneously, it's impossible for me to ever find Amity dull again.

The second interpretation is one an infatuated person would wish for – to be with the man from the fence. Honestly, the man – Eric – wasn't what pushed me towards the glowing coals; in fact, his contribution was so minuscule that it might as well not be there. Sure, the man on the fence was the first time a man really noticed me. But had I stayed back here in Amity, I could've found someone right for me – someone like John preferably. Plus, it would be foolish of me to think that the man was a perfect fit just because he is curious about a flower-sniffer.

Looking at him now, with his posture relaxed and any hint of the stress of being a leader gone, I could imagine a life with him. One without any worries of divergents and all that slaughtering crap. One where we would come home from work and relax on the couch, maybe have the dogs by our feet as we watch a movie. One where I would make one of the few dishes I know – lasagna perhaps – and he would be watching in fascination or distracting me with showers of affection.

But as soon as the scene is created, it's gone.

A fantasy; that's all it is, just like all the times my mind wanders when I stare deep into his slate blue eyes. It is inane to hope that such a wild man like this would change his ways. 'You love the person as they are now, not who you wish they become', was father's words. People don't change for someone else, to fit a certain mold the other has shaped; even if they did, it will only last so long. A lie their relationship will be, only needing a small trigger point for everything to break loose. But with all the advice I've been giving and studying Eric now, I can't help but cling to the hope that there's more to this man than what everyone perceives.

* * *

**A/N**

**This is by far the longest chapter (5.3k words) and also my most hated one. .-. ****It's not so much of the content, but the writing. This is the chapter where I spent half a week to write and also felt really stuck. ****I kinda wanna rewrite it, but not really sure how I'm gonna pull that off while still including everything or how to write it in general. Maybe I should chop it up into two chapters when rewriting, but first I'll need to find the motivation to do it haha.**

**On a brighter note, I'm progressing a little faster now that this chapter is over.**


	17. 17

1\. Joe

2\. Anna

3\. Cole

4\. Jace

5\. Skylar

My eyes skim past the names I don't recognize nor care about, pausing briefly at 8 and 13 where Zack and Riley sit respectively. As her friend, I should be concerned that she is teetering along the edge of becoming factionless. These past few days haven't done anyone good, and judging by my occasional nightmares, that includes me too. However, the worst of all was the currently green Candor slumping in the arms of Jace. It is her screaming and sobbing that keeps most of us awake through the night, resulting in most of the transfers taking naps in the afternoon. It's honestly a miracle that she isn't dead bottom.

But the shaken girl was the least of my worries. Right next to the rankings of our progress report is our simulation times. Joe's time is a four minute average, a stark difference from my ten and Cole's eleven. There was no doubt that the lousy shooter is a divergent the moment I saw the single digit next to him name. Eric will definitely on his case, if he wasn't already.

I pray that what Four said about him culling divergents was just a scare tactic.

The said instructor stands stoically by the board, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He doesn't not meet my panicked gaze, blue eyes hopping from initiate to initiate with the exception of me. I want to speak with him, to demand why he didn't help Joe and what will happen to him. This boy is in danger, and it's now too late to help him.

The initiate remains clueless of what his actions entail. He whoops and cheers with his group of friends while they congratulate him, completely oblivious that he cheated the system. I stop trying to catch the instructor's eye, trusting that this matter is in his hands and that questioning his actions would only goad him to snap. So, I decide tap Skylar on the shoulder, asking whether she would like to hangout. She says yes without hesitation, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement for it was the first time I instigated a social event. We exit the training room then, leaving sobbing messes and endangered lives behind.

* * *

It was when I believed Four and I was only being paranoid that my friend proved himself right.

Today is Sunday, two days after the ranking announcements. From the moment the rankings have been released up till last night, I had been keeping tabs on the lousy shooter. All was well; Eric was nowhere near the foolish boy while Joe spent the day off getting tattooed and drinking. I even stayed awake through the night, ears twitching towards any noise made from outside the door.

Yet despite my efforts and knowledge, I still stand by the chasm dumbstruck. Eric perches on a wooden platform that had been placed moments ago, a black body bag a foot beneath him. The young leader is delivering a speech on his self-inflicted death, proclaiming how brave he is for choosing to travel into the unknown.

All around me are Dauntless members with drinks in their hands, cheering loudly when needed; their din burns my ears. Unlike them, who celebrate the murder of an innocent initiate, I stand passively on the bridge. My back leans against the railing and my gaze is transfixed on the leader, watching him for any signs of anything. Whatever words that flow from his mouth fly over my head; it is a stupid speech, one that I suspect he's forced to do. He's too smart for his own good, features schooled to his leader mode – emotionless and giving nothing away.

The speech ends with chants of 'Joe' by people who don't even know him. I am no hypocrite, which is why I don't join in, even if it's out of respect for the dead. The idea of staying till everything boils over so I could see where the body is to be disposed is very tempting, but it gets crushed when a drunk Dauntless bumps into me. My façade snaps then, revealing a sleep deprived, exasperated me. I shove him back, resulting him toppling forward face-first.

My hand shoots out like a viper and encircles my instructor's arm. Judging by how he did not flinch and instead follow me towards the tunnels without hesitation, he knew this was coming. We arrive at a dark alcove, the deafening din fading to a low rumble.

He beats me to speak. "There was nothing I could've done."

My eye twitches in exhaustion and irritation. I want to snap at him, instructor or not, for the life of the dead boy was in his hands. But I don't; silence is what I resort to in situations such as these.

Four sighs defeatedly and takes a seat across me. "On the first day of stage two, I was supposed to take care of Joe while Lauren does you. I knew what you were and gave the excuse of you having panic attacks so I could swap the both of you." My mouth start to move but he cuts me off. "When I saw the times later that day, it was already too late. Lauren herself had compiled everything. Were I to delete the results, Eric would be on to me. I did view the simulation, hoping that he did not indicate his awareness. But alas, the stupid boy was screaming that it was a simulation right before it ended. There was nothing I could do then, only to ignore his times and pretend he wasn't a cow to the slaughterhouse." His shoulders had slumped down when he finished, an odd reaction for someone who did not care about the boy.

Technically, Joe is dead because of me. I should feel guilty; share the burden with the instructor even, but I don't. "He wasn't going to last anyways." I say. It's the truth. It's rather remarkable that Joe had gone so long without being detected. He shouldn't have been able to go past the aptitude test if he was divergent. Perhaps like me, he did choose the most obvious path to get to Dauntless by coincidence.

"But I failed him as an instructor. Had I keep an eye on him-"

"And there's nothing you can do about it now. What is done is done." The lack of sleep this past week is now taking a toll on me. Add on the death of a divergent by Eric, I'm just about had it. "It's in the past now. Not much can be done now but move on." My voice is void of emotion or care, yearning for rest.

Four doesn't speak further, only sighing dejectedly with his shoulders slumped and eyes to the ground. His posture mimics mine, except for totally different reasons. I don't say anything back, exhaustion and stress makes me clamp my mouth shut, for only a tiny nudge would make me snap.

We stay like that for a while, with Four letting his failure sink in while I doze off. Eventually it's his quiet 'thanks' that wakes me. I merely grunt at him and mumble an 'anytime' before we parted ways, me trudging to the dormitory for a long due nap.

* * *

I woke right before dinner; which meant I had slept through lunch. Though I am no longer fatigued, my mood hasn't lifted.

Dinner at my table was a miraculously quiet affair. It had momentarily slipped my mind that an initiated died today, making me stare stupidly at the solemn faces of the initiates. As irritating as the chatter may sometimes be, I've unfortunately grown used to it.

Now I sit at a bar alone, a bottle of apple cider in front of me. The alcoholic drink was unplanned, for I'm aware of the effects and dangers surrounding such a peculiarly liked beverage. But with all that's boiling over about Eric, I figured that perhaps a drink to unwind was well deserved.

The apple cider is bittersweet; both figuratively and literally. Swooshing the liquid in my mouth, the taste of apple is unmistakable. The flavor brings the comfort of familiarity, especially with the introduction of consuming alcohol. But with apple comes the nostalgia of home. The sweet refreshing drink taunts me on how I wouldn't be in this situation if I had stayed in Amity; it's not wrong.

My mind is numb with disappointment, so I watch the fizzing in the pale-yellow liquid. The bottle is less than half empty since being opened half an hour ago; me savoring each sip with all the time in the world.

"Didn't think I would've ever see you again." An unfamiliar voice pipes from behind me. It is only when the man sides into the barstool next to mine do I realize that the statement was directed to me. I stare blankly at the blond Dauntless, too emotionally drained to even be confused. My inability to identify the man doesn't last long as he clears it up for me. "Sorry about the other day, wasn't in my right mind." The toned man scratches his neck and chuckles nervously. He must've been the drunk that day I hung out with Four.

I couldn't care less about the drunk. "It's fine." _Please leave._

He doesn't; in fact, he does the exact opposite – order a drink. After a word of 'scotch', he shifts his body to face me. "Can we start over?" My fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle. "My name is Liam."

I'm about to snap at him to leave me alone but I catch myself at the last moment. As annoying as his presence already is, he is being what I need the most – a distraction.

With a newfound purpose, I take a swing from the bottle and turn to face him, a gesture to indicate that his efforts aren't futile. "Anna."

His face brightens considerably, making his hazel eyes pop under the lights. A fine male specimen this man is, probably only a few years older than me. "Anna? The Amity transfer? You've been the talk since initiation started!" His voice takes a high excitable tone, as if he's speaking to a celebrity. "Are the rumors true then?"

I blink. "What rumors?"

He looks at me incredulously like I've grown two heads. "That you've won every fight without bloodshed of course!" Ah, should've known what he was referring to.

"I suppose so, yeah." It's really not a big deal.

Liam's mouth opens and closes, like a gaping fish. I take another swing from the bottle, slightly weirded out. It takes him a while to compose himself, but I'm glad when he eventually does. "So, urm, how do you do it?"

I blink. "My mother was from Dauntless, she taught me a few tricks before I left." I shrug nonchalantly. We slip into casual conversation then, with time starting to fly by quickly. I learn that John works at the transport station, meaning that he sorts out all the shipments that come into Dauntless. It's interesting to listen to all the items that are brought from the shipments, as well as how custom orders are made. For the first time since I came back from Amity, I feel relaxed and carefree, maybe I should come here more often.

Liam is an interesting soul. He claims that he transferred from Candor and was in the same initiate class as Eric and Four. I don't bother asking him about the two men since he seems just fine blabbering away about his experience. An added bonus is that his voice is silvery, a tone I won't mind listening to for the rest of the night.

Another quirk of Liam is that he's an incredible storyteller, especially when it comes to talking about comical events at in work. I'm in the middle of giggling about his first encounter with a literal banjo-strummer when we're interrupted. "Anna."

I turn towards a stiff Eric, still giggling like a kid. "Oh hi Eric!" Liam's face turns visibly pale like he's just seen a ghost; I don't see it though. "Have you met Liam? You guys were in the same initiate class together! He's a really nice guy."

Eric stares at the man beside me for a moment before eyeing the empty bottle on the counter and the full one in my hand. "You've been drinking."

My face perks up with excitement and I take a swing. "I have! Have you tried apple cider? These are really- Hey!" The bottle is snatched out of my grasp. "Go get your own mister!"

I'm about to order another one when my arm is grabbed and I'm hauled out of my seat. "We're leaving."

My lips turn down into the shape of an 'n'. "Aww… fine… But wait!" I strain my neck to turn back to my drinking buddy. "We should hang out more yeah?" The frozen man manages to force out a stiff nod, eyes wide and mouth clamped shut. _What's up with him?_

When we step out of the bar, I suck in a deep breath of air and stretch my back. "Liam's a nice guy, and he's good looking too." My voice then drops into a whisper and I tiptoe to the leader. "Between you and me, I think I might just say yes if he asks me out." The hand on my arm tightens and I break out into a fit of giggles.

"Is that so?" Eric's voice is low like a rumble; sexy.

"Yep!" With the 'p' popping at the end. "Nice guy, sexy voice- oh hey! I know you! You're Eric's friend!" My arm tugs free from Eric's grasp as my feet brake mid-way. "I'm Anna! And I like warm hugs!" Silver stares at my stuck-out hand oddly before glancing up to the man beside me. It takes me a moment to realize my mistake. "Oh wait, that's Olaf. Right. Sorry."

"Interesting choice of women." He says, eyeing my hand warily. I huff and drop my arm pathetically.

"She's drunk." The man beside me replies monotonously.

A gasp leaves my lips and I step away from him betrayed. "I am not drunk! And give me that!" I lunge for my bottle only to have him sidestep away. The apple goodness now hangs mockingly above my head, too far up for me to jump and grab it; I know this because I tried futilely.

"Definitely drunk." Eric affirms. My mouth moves to protest but Eric speaks up again, cutting off anything I want to say. "Thanks. I'll be bringing her back now."

Silver nods at him, both of them completely ignoring my presence. "I'll see you around." With that, he slinks away deeper into the Pit. Silver reminds me of Sabre, with the main constitute being his hair color.

"Can I have back my drink now?"

"No."

Eric moves the opening of the bottle to his lips; my eyes widen in alarm immediately. He isn't doing what I think he's doing, is he? "No wait!" He then proceeds to drink from it. Heck. My shoulders slump in horror; I used my own points for that.

His face scrunches up in confusion. "What's the alcoholic percentage in this?" He twists the bottle around and brings it up to his eye level. "Four point five? That's hardly anything, and you're drunk over this?"

"I am not drunk!"

"That's exactly what a drunk would say."

I sigh exasperatedly and throw my hands in the air. "What on earth am I supposed to say if I'm not drunk then?"

"Point taken." The bottle is held out in front of me. "You can have this back."

Nothing stops the glare that comes. "Well now I don't want it." I huff, arms crossed defiantly.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Why not?"

My eye twitches. _Did he really ask such a ridiculous question? _"Because boys have cooties!" I exclaim childishly.

"Well you didn't seem to have a problem with that when it came to Liam." His snarl is vicious enough to contend with my dogs', how amusing.

My jaw drops. "There's a big difference between talking and kissing!"

"He wanted to kiss you."

"No he didn't!"

"Yes, he did."

"Stop being-" At that moment, the tip of my shoe unwittingly collides with something hard. I yelp at the sharp pain as my world starts to tilt.

But the impact doesn't arrive. "For fuck's sake, can you at least walk without tripping?" Eric snaps irritatingly.

"Fuck you!" My arm yanks out of his grasp once again. "Don't blame me! Blame the uneven-"

The words die on my tongue as I recognize the hallway we are heading towards, all playfulness flying out. A scowl overtakes my face. "I don't want to go there."

Eric follows my lead and stops walking. "But that's where you sleep...?"

"That's where I _lose _sleep." I correct distastefully and then mumble more to myself. "Stupid everyone and their stupid fears."

Eric pauses as if unsure; though I'm not sure what. "Right." He says finally. We walk off to the opposite direction; well, Eric does the walking while I attempt to skip. The feat doesn't last as my head starts spinning and my vision blurs.

A split-second decision is made and I'm leaning onto the bulky man for support. It is a wonder why I didn't do this earlier, it's so much easier to walk now; plus, he smells really good too. The support tenses before relaxing, an arm slowly sliding its way over my shoulders and then pulling me close.

Only with the warmth radiating off him does the chillness of Dauntless start to sink in. A brief thought passes through me that Eric would do well having a job of being a human heater, but I'll probably spend every last point I have to book him so I won't have to share. I definitely don't want to share.

Eric is now forbidden to partake in such a job.

The heater leads us to unfamiliar twists and turns that I doubt I would ever remember. "I like this." He speaks up from the silence. From the faint blue glow of the lights, I assume that he's referring to my bottle of cider that now sits almost empty.

"I told you; good stuff." My voice has lost its previous excitement, exhaustion slowly settling in. Eric pretty much carries most of my weight now; it doesn't help when he allows me to sag against him. What can I say? He is big and warm; even now, he outcompetes with the bed in the dorm.

We lapse into a comfortable silence again, or at least that's what I think happened.

* * *

**A/N**

**Will only be able to update on next Tuesday. I have a camp going on and will be distracted. (I'm distracted now too .-.)**

**This chapter was fun to write, cause the scene was playing out well in my head.**


	18. 18

Never has the bed smelled so good. The scent of clean sheets, cologne and musk; a match made in heaven. Is this what heaven smells like? If so, I'd like sign up right away.

The smell is familiar though, like it belongs to someone… someone like… Eric Coulter. Lightning shatters my snuggle session and my eyes fly open in alarm. A few things hit me at once. One; the sunlight coming through the window. Two; there is water running from the door beside me. Three; the room holds personal belongings and a wardrobe. Four; I'm in the middle of a king-sized bed with sheets wrapped around me like a cocoon. Five; I distinctively recall collapsing onto a black _couch _in the living room, not a black _bed_.

At the last fact, I wrench my arm out under the blankets and feel the area beside me. My palm skims up the pillows and down the bed, finding the space cold – he didn't sleep here. As if the dam gates opened, relief floods through my body. But the feeling doesn't last long when I remember that today is Monday. A long stare at the bedside clock that reads nine thirty-eight am confirms that I'm indeed late for the sims. It doesn't help when the water stops running too.

Wild panic rises in me; just what I needed. "Oh crap." Eric will appear any second now. I try to wiggle out of the cocoon in frantic movements, but the fabric doesn't loosen fast enough. The curses that tumble out of my mouth would disappoint my parents as I battle against an inanimate object.

It's only when I collide onto the ground does the blanket give way. But by that time, I'm already a second too late. Eric stands at the opened bathroom door, dressed in nothing except a towel around his hips with steam escaping into the bedroom. The scene is much like those dramatic space entrances I watch on tv, minus the nakedness. He looks down amused with his hair damp and sticking to the sides of his head. Out of all the four sides I could've fell, I choose the one closest to the door. _Why am I like this? _"Good morning." His voice is husky; a tone I would appreciate given that I'm not currently dying from embarrassment.

"Hi." The greeting sounded more like a squeak than anything else. My eyes dart away from him towards the blankets that are half on the bed, and half on me. _Could this get any worse?_

"You know, if you were so desperate to see it, you could've just asked." My mind jumbles up and my face squeezes together, completely confused on what he's talking about. And only by staring dumbly at his cocky smirk do I register that he's referring to his cock – of which I definitely could not see.

My face immediately heats up and I jerk away from him. "N-n-no, th-this isn't what it looks like." The words splutter out nervously. If dying from embarrassment is a thing, I would be 6 feet deep already. Eric cracks up, body shaking as he watches me squirm uncomfortably half a meter away from his feet. I do my best to make myself look less of a fool by pulling the covers over my face and groaning.

"Aww… No, don't be like that." Eric coos, playfully tugging the covers at my head. My fingers curl around the soft fabric tighter; to hell if they're gonna budge. With another small tug, the practically naked man walks away from my pitiful puddle. _Yes, please leave._

The footsteps grow softer as he moves away from me. "You can come out now." The humor in his voice is unmistakable; good that at least one of us is finding joy in this.

Slowly, I lower the blankets from my face. As assured, Eric is no longer staring down at me, probably disappeared into the room. I blow out the air through my mouth and finally escape the sly blankets, freeing my lower limbs at last. Bunching up the fabric, I get to my feet and toss them back onto the bed.

Eric stands in front of the opened wardrobe with his back towards me. This wouldn't have been a problematic sight if it weren't for the fact that the towel around his waist was shifting and loosening. My eyes widen in horror and I make a dash to the exit.

This was not what I expected how the morning should've panned out.

I was expecting waking on a couch in Eric's apartment feeling like an utter idiot for asking him to bring me here. As I said yesterday, I wasn't drunk. So, I _do_remember every single conversation I had since the moment I opened my first bottle. But that doesn't stop me from being appalled by my actions. Sure, a little embarrassment was sure to come with my recklessness. However, I did not expect this – waking in his bed with him half-naked.

As if my feet were still drunk, they conveniently trip over themselves. On any other occasion, I would be applauding at how they managed to pull off such an impossible feat, but it's hard to do so when my face collides with the door. A sharp twinge of pain crackles at my forehead; can't stop the yelp that follows. My hand shoots out for the handle, pushing it down and steadying myself simultaneously. Yanking the wooden door open, I shove myself out of the room, slamming the door to drown out Eric's laughter.

It takes a while for me to regain my dignity and composure; I'm red enough already to be a clown inside out. Leaning against the door with a hand over my pounding heart, I force myself to survey the room before me. Eric's apartment is abnormally large for someone that lives alone. Across me is another door of which I assume leads to a guest room or office. His kitchen is just as big as the one in my house, complete with cooking appliances that would accommodate any recipe he wishes to try. _Or I wish to try._

I crush that thought immediately.

The common area adjacent to it contains the couch I had passed out on. It's a three-seater black leather couch, big enough for Sabre and Hawk to sleep on without shoving each other off. The couch faces a coffee table and a wide television which is mounted onto the wall.

Feeling a bit more like myself, I stroll into the kitchen, fingertips gliding over the dust-free countertops. Just by looking, Eric's entire apartment is immaculate. Had he brought me here completely sober, I would've hesitated before entering. Everything here is pristine like a showroom's; intimidating.

I grab a glass from the rack and fill it with water, finding my dry mouth and sugary teeth an unsettling feeling. Then, as I survey the room once again, does something come to light.

Eric's from Erudite; and there is no way that he wasn't.

Hidden against the wall by the corridor earlier, lays a large wooden bookshelf. Hundreds of books arranged neatly which upon closer inspection, are mostly non-fiction and classics.

I should've guessed it earlier, especially with how he's able to process situations and his behavior. Even with the slight possibility that he may just be a book-worm Dauntless-born, the shoe rack by the door says otherwise. Never would I admit that seeing shoe rack ticks another checkbox off my list; just another reason I may consider this man more than an acquaintance.

"Why were you drinking last night?" My eyes flicker to the now-dressed man, all thoughts going down the drain. Eric is leaning against the wall, an ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded. He wears a long-sleeved jacket today, something he occasionally puts on when he disappears for the rest of the day. His hair has yet to be gelled up, the strands falling over his forehead messily. Eric should leave his hair as it is more often, gives him an adorable boyish look.

A few seconds of silence pass as I appreciate the perfection of the Dauntless leader. _Definitely won't mind seeing this first thing in the morning. _I choke on my saliva at that incredibly bold and uncalled exclamation.

Eric lifts an eyebrow; microdermals glinting off the light. "I felt bothered." How does one tell someone that they're the reason you're drinking without exposing yourself?

"About?"

I blink. "Joe's death." That isn't a total lie.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You don't even associate yourself with him." At that, Eric pushes himself off the wall and starts towards me.

I force myself to stay put. "Doesn't mean that his life was insignificant." _His life was insignificant; but better him than me right?_

Just when I thought Eric was going to corner and make me blurt my guts out, he reaches beside me to extract a coffee pot instead. _Huh. _"Well he chose to jump, not much you can do about that." Now it's my turn to frown in confusion. Eric didn't sound like he was lying. He eyes my expression. "What?" _But Eric must be right? Why else would a top-ranking initiate die?_

I shake my head to rid of all the growing questions and slip out under Eric; his cologne was affecting my ability to think logically. Taking a seat on a barstool, I prop my face onto my elbows and stare at him.

Eric seems casual about the whole incident, like he had nothing to do with it. He's busying himself with the coffee without a care in the world. "Then why?" I ask as if he knows the answer.

Apparently, he does. Eric digs something out of his pants pocket and slides it over the counter. "He left this note at his bunk. Doesn't make much sense, but people who jump don't typically make much sense anyways." He shrugs. "It's common to have initiates jump during stage two." He adds nonchalantly, grabbing a mug now that the coffee's done.

I lift the folded piece of paper to my eyes and unravel it. Inside is a few brief sentences of how he – Joe – couldn't take the sims and has been feeling out of it since stage two started. Unlike Eric who seems completely convinced over the note and reasoning, I'm not. Because unlike Eric, I saw how overjoyed Joe was over the results.

* * *

I leave his apartment more confused than ever before.

All heads snap to me at the waiting room. Though I'm awfully aware that I'm two hours late, I have more things to be bothered about. It is by some miracle that Riley isn't in sight, I think I would've snapped if she opened her big mouth and ask where I've been.

Skylar is present though, unfortunately. "You alright?"

I reply curtly, taking the empty seat beside her. "Yes."

She hesitates. "You seem a bit bothered... that's all." I wonder.

My hand flies to my face to cover my twitching eye. It requires great effort to remind myself that Skylar has been nothing but a decent person to me. "I got held up by Eric. I don't want to talk about it."

Drama aside, I did enjoy spending time in Eric's apartment. It was the first time I slept through the night this past week and woke up not feeling like I want to stab my dormmates. The smell of his room, the softness of the bed and blankets, the magnificent sight of his glistening body, the sound of his voice; everything I didn't know I wanted to wake up to. Had he offered for me to sleepover, I might just not hesitate to say yes.

Skylar doesn't push further, a reason why I tolerate her far better than the Candor. We lapse into silence as we wait for our respective turns.

When Four pokes his head out for the next initiate, his eyes widen minutely at the sight of me. I give him a tight-lipped smile. There is so much I want to talk to him about, and I can only hope that he somehow has telepathic abilities.

"Rylan." He says.

Maybe he does have them.

* * *

Entering the room, I expected a 'Where have you been', not a "What did Eric do to you?"

Four stands between the door and me, arms crossed and face twisted into a scowl. I stare at him dumbfoundedly. _How did he know I was at Eric's? _"Nothing."

"He took advantage of you, didn't he? I saw him dragging you back to his apartment drunk."

My eye twitches at the accusation towards the man who has never hurt me, even with what he's capable of. "No, he didn't." I growl back. "And I wasn't drunk." _Why does everyone assume that?_

Four takes a step closer to me. "How would you know? You couldn't even walk straight." He's dangerous like this, especially when his voice is far from the exploding tone one would expect. "He could've spiked your drink too."

Anger flares through me. How dare he say that about him. "He didn't spike my drink. In fact, he stopped me from drinking."

"Didn't seem that way with the bottle in his hand. Looked like both of you were hitting it off together."

The tight hold I've been keeping on my emotions loosens. "Well that was my bottle! He took it from me!" My fists are clenched to the side. Four has no right to accuse Eric over anything. "What are you? Stalking me now?" I'm this close to tackling him to the ground and giving him a piece of my mind, or Eric could do the honors.

He throws his arms in the air. "No, just looking out for a friend so she doesn't get killed!" It requires great effort not to physically roll my eyes.

I take a deep breath. _Four is just watching over me; he means no harm_. The phrases repeat themselves in my head until I'm slightly calmer. Breathe in; breathe out. There's no need to fight over a misunderstanding.

I take a step back in attempt to clear the tenseness in the air. "Eric came into the bar after he saw that I was drinking too much." Lie. "He was bringing me back to the dorms when I told him I didn't want to spend the night there with all the nasally kids. So, he brought me back to his apartment to bunk." I then proceed to gesture myself. "See? No bruises, no tears, no nothing. I'm perfectly fine."

Four stares at me skeptically, like he's trying to figure out whether I've been threatened to only recite this. "So you just casually slept over his apartment and nothing happened?"

Flashes of me falling at his feet and making a fool out of myself flit over my eyes. "Yep." I say, putting in effort to pop the 'p'. It is now vital I change the subject as quick as possible. "Oh, and I found out something." I wring my hands together and take a seat on the simulation chair. Personally, I don't believe sharing this information with Four is a good idea. However, there's really no one else I could talk to that wouldn't snitch my position or spread the word.

_Here goes nothing. _"I don't think Eric killed Joe."

As predicted, Four's eyes harden. "So you're saying that he – the first ranking initiate – just _happened_to jump off to his death on his own accord?" Perhaps I should've done this another day. Preferably a few days after today, with all the bunking with Eric going on.

I pray that I can drive my point through before he de-friends me and storms out of the room. "I know it sounds crazy, but-"

He cuts me off, and percentage of success decreases drastically. "Crazy? You bet it sounds crazy. In fact, I don't think 'crazy' quite cuts it. More like 'insane', 'absurd', 'preposterous'! What's gotten into you?" Ouch.

"I know, but Eric-"

"One night with Eric and you're on his side now? Didn't you have an aptitude for Erudite? Surely you're not _that_dense, are you?" Four pacing back and forth, every sentence he speaks growing a pitch higher; definitely should've done this another day. "How could you defend a monster like him? Pray tell why on earth Joe would've pitched himself off the-"

My body tenses. "Eric is not a monster!" Leave it to the subject of Eric to kickstart my defense mechanisms. "He found a suicide note on Joe's bunk. He even showed it to me."

"And you believe it? How would you know if it's actually from him or written by Eric himself?"

"I don't know what to believe!" Of course, I did consider the possibility of the note being a fake. "But when Eric was telling me about it, there was no hint malice or anything! In fact, he seemed like he couldn't give two shits about the boy."

Four sighs and rubs his face, the lines on his forehead making him look years older. "So you honestly think that he didn't do it?"

"Well… Personally, I'm not fully convinced, but I guess so, yeah." I shrug and kick my feet out like a child.

The instructor stares at me hard. "You know what I think?" He pulls out the roller chair and takes a seat, voice turning deadly quiet. "I think that since Eric is interested in you, he would do _anything _to make you see the presumably 'good' side of him. And that includes lying to you in order to keep you in the dark."

"But-"

"I mean, what about Amar? And the Amity boy you told me about? Wasn't Eric the only person to know about their divergence? There's no way Joe conveniently committed suicide days after he basically proclaimed himself divergent."

Four has a point.

This is exactly why I wasn't completely buying the story. A wave of fatigue passes through me. "I guess." I say finally, not really in the mood for a new argument.

"Good." Four says, sliding back to the computer desk like a recoiling snake.

Having this conversation has cleared literally nothing. I'm still confused on whether Eric did have a hand in Joe's death. My head says yes, but my gut says no. Because for some sick reason, I actually believe what the young leader said.

* * *

**A/N**

**This chapter was fun to write. And the following chapter is pretty great too (There's finally progress between the two :D)**

**I'll be having another camp on Friday, so I'll only be able to update on Monday. I'm also restarting my traumatic driving lessons, which is why I can't really update tomorrow and thursday without running out of chapters. **

**On a slightly better note, my creative juices are flowing now that internship is over :D**


	19. 19

"Two years ago, I was afraid of spiders, suffocation, walls that inch slowly inward and trap you between them, getting thrown out of Dauntless, uncontrollable bleeding, my father's death, public humiliation and being kidnapped by men without faces." Lauren starts.

I stare at the instructor apathetically and bleary-eyed. Yesterday I had witness myself kill John because I couldn't stop; so, forgive me for not feeling a twinge of sympathy towards this woman.

"Today we are introducing you to the fear landscapes, of which is stage three." Cue dramatic pause for effect. "Your final test and rankings will be determined by the speed it takes you to get through all your fears." _In one go?_"Unlike in stage two, you will be aware that you're in a simulation. So, your goal is to get out of there by all means necessary."

Lauren continues to drone on and on while I look around the room – minus below. The place is disappointing, considering that it holds one of the most important events of the year _and_has the capacity to house all of Dauntless. I'm very apprehensive about the glass floor beneath me, providing the view of the Pit; not only does it look fragile – at least to me it does – but I can also imagine myself falling ten stories above. Which is why I'm currently leaning against the wall at the back of the group instead of up front like the nerd I secretly am.

"First, Anna Laker, walls that inch inward." I blink.

That's not too bad; not even something I'm afraid of. I relax back against the wall as she announces the rest of the fears. Now that Joe's gone, I suppose that I'm back at first place; and I'm not sure if that's a good thing by the way Cole is currently glaring at me. My arms tighten across my chest as I reciprocate the gesture.

_There are rules against initiates harming initiates… right?_

The rest of the fear assignments flies by my head, but I do know that Riley's facing kidnapping. _Who on earth thought that was a good idea?_Staring at her now, I hope Jace will be able to handle her himself, because I'm really not in the mood.

Pushing off the wall, I force myself to trudge forward casually towards where Four holds a syringe. To my utter delight, the rest of the initiates aren't allowed in the same room as I, only permitted to watch from outside.

"Good luck." Four says.

I can't stop the yawn that escapes me due to the lack of sleep; hence, I make a pathetic attempt to cover my mouth so he wouldn't take it as an insult. "Thanks."

I just want to go back to sleep.

There is no furniture, much less a chair, in the landscape theater, only vast empty space. This leads me to think that our actions in the simulation copies the real world; _awesome_.

Then everything shifts.

The narrow open-air room leaves nothing to imagination. It is obvious that the way to defeat this sim is to climb up or calm down. The decision to climb up was a no-brainer, since it's been a while when I last climbed anything.

I stretch out my limbs and back as if unfazed by everything. The walls are abnormally tall, but it should be doable based on what Lauren described on how fear landscapes work – almost impossibly, but possible. Everything feels real; the body, the workout clothes, the concrete floor, the preposterous heights, the crisp air; yet it isn't.

Once the walls started inching towards me, there was no time to waste. I place both palms on either side of the walls and hoist myself up with my back legs propelling me upwards. The walls inch slow, giving me ample time to make a steady climb. This seems easy; makes me wonder whether the solutions for the rest of the sims are this simple too. It confuses me on why this exercise is the determining factor on whether you'll be accepted into Dauntless, for it's mostly a brain challenge than a muscle/skill one.

My inquiry is answered when my footing slips.

It was far too late for me to remember that I'm climbing up – away from the ground – when I looked down to access the situation. Instead of regaining my grip, my hands start to slip, growing sweaty as the height I'm at gapes at me. _Right; heights. _I squeeze my eyes shut as my heart rate skyrockets. The walls seem to be closing at a much faster rate now, to my utter dismay. My mind spins as the height I'm at registers. _Crap; crap; crap._

My limbs are folding into each other now, with the walls closing at a deadly speed. Belated fear courses through me now as my brain dies on me. I squeeze my eyes shut and push my limbs outwards to stop from slipping. With the gap much smaller now, I'm not sure if I can make it to the top. I'm about to be crushed.

It's when my elbows and knees replace my hands and feet does light shine at the end of the tunnel. _'You'll do well. Just think through the fear.'_Those were the words Eric said to me this morning. The young leader had caught me right when I exited the dorms this morning, like he knew the exact minute I go out every day. It was the first time he conversed with me since the day at the apartment. And as much as I hated that fact, I reason with myself that he has a life outside spending time with me and it's unfair to expect so much from him. Another reason I gave myself was that relationship between initiates and fully-fledged members were probably against the rules; not that anyone has said anything about it. The morning at the apartment was the second time – the first was the war games – I've seen Eric be completely human. It was such a beautiful sight to see him laugh that I can't help but yearn for more.

Everything was so close, yet so far away. Him sitting two tables away on every meal feels like miles with my inability to close the gap. I hoped that perhaps by lingering at the Pit, he would've come find me and maybe even whisk me away back to his apartment. But he didn't. And the sense of longing only grew.

So, when he was the first person I saw when I stepped out of the dorms, my heart fluttered despite the lack of rest. Eric gestured me to follow him, bringing me to an alcove where we will be out of the direct line of sight. He didn't invite me to his apartment like I secretly hoped he did, only to wish me luck for the fear landscape today. But it was the way he said it that struck a chord in me. Eric's words weren't empty like most people; instead, they held meaning and confidence, as if he believed with all his heart that I would do well. And that touched me. Knowing that the leader had and has complete confidence in me is exhilarating; especially since he's the first one apart from my family who truly believes so.

_Think through the fear. _

My eyes should've opened to the narrowing corridor; instead, it's the vast landscape room that greets me back. The empty air underneath the balls of my feet have been replaced with solid ground and the pressing sides with nothingness.

Standing from my odd box crouching position, I look around confusingly. _Did the simulation end already?_

* * *

The simulation after mine is even more baffling.

Cole stands in the room unmoving through the one-sided glass. The only indication of him being in the simulation is by the way he panicked over the first few seconds when it started. Jace told me that his assigned fear was suffocation, and currently, he doesn't seem to be suffocating at all.

"Did I stand like that earlier?" Perhaps the simulation induces your physical body into a paralysis to prevent harming yourself – a perfectly logical reason.

Jace looks at me. Since the moment I've met this bubbly Dauntless born, I've never seen him afraid or pale. "No. You were moving the whole time."

Just as the words leave his lips, Cole's fingers twitch. It's the first sign of movement since he lapsed into a standing coma. But the moment of weakness is immediately crushed when he clenches his fists to his sides. As if things weren't scary enough, Cole's eyes snap open. Though blank, it's obvious that he's staring right at the threat – defying the fear.

Another half a minute ticks by before life reenters his eyes and his body relaxes into familiarity. Unlike me, he seems perfectly calm and dons a triumphant smirk on his face. As he steps off the landscape room and takes up the offer of having the day off, murmurs sound from all corners of the waiting room. I don't blame anyone, for I have my questions as well. _How did he do that?_

* * *

"There is only one other person I know who's done that." Four's voice is robotic in the empty room.

The simulations had ended ten minutes ago and everyone had filed out either shaken or elated to have the rest of the days off. The final testing will be in three days – with today being the first – and we have been graciously given the time off to 'figure out' how to conquer our fears.

After watching everyone else's fears, I can safely conclude that Cole must be some kind odd prodigy. Jace did try to do what Cole did – standing immobile – but his feat only lasted a solid five seconds before he was back to shrieking and fighting off the imaginary spiders.

I have an educated guess on Four's statement. For if there's anyone I can name off the top of my head that is anything like the brutal initiate, it's the brutal leader. "Eric?"

The nod confirms it. "It was the first day we entered Dauntless. Back then, they wanted to try out having the initiates go through the fear landscapes first. Eric went first and he was much like Cole, stiff as a stone, except that he had control of his emotions far better. So imagine Cole doing that twice as fast, twelve times in a row." I gulp.

If Eric was so remarkable, how did he not beat Four? "But you ranked first?"

Four glances at me over his shoulders from the computer. "I had significantly less fears." He says.

"But none of the other Erudites are like them. Are they related then?" There isn't any resemblance between them other than their brutality and mercilessness really.

The instructor sighs heavily and turns to face me, folding his arms across his chest. "Eric works with Jeanine, who has access to our simulations. There is not a doubt in me that she taught Eric the ropes and tricks of the program, for not even the Dauntless-born knows what stage two and three consists of." That includes me too. "Is it cheating? Yes. But the Erudite are manipulative, and Jeanine_is_the epitome of it."

So Cole works for Jeanine too. However when I think back, it doesn't seem as if Eric and Cole are friendly towards each other. "Cole is a pawn."

"Indeed. Just like Eric."

"But why need another pawn? Especially since she has Eric already." And if I'm not mistaken, Max too.

Four shoots me a look, one that I know I'm about the dread the answer. "Dauntless leadership consists of five members to allow them to make decisions without a having a stand-off. Rumor has it that Jessica will be stepping down soon." My stomach drops; I know where this is going. "Cole's arrival is perfect to replace her. Now all he needs to do is to maintain his rank or take yours. Once he becomes part of leadership, Dauntless will now be under the mercy of Jeanine and trio."

I take a deep breath. Everything is starting to overwhelm me; Erudite, Dauntless Leadership, Cole, Eric and the fear landscape. I'm unsure of how to go about from here.

"Is there any way we can stop this then?" _We could kill him._

Four tilts his head and looks at me expectantly. "What do _you _plan to do after initiation?"

* * *

With another apple cider in hand, I realize that I am horrible at dealing with stress.

Perhaps if my dogs were here, I would've been spending my time with them instead of drinking. I did spend the evening in the training room. Yet despite all the strenuous exercise I've put myself through, everything came crashing back the moment I stepped out.

The same bar I'm in is unreasonably loud today. With all the music and hooting, I won't be surprised if I turn deaf in the morning. I should leave, especially since the din is only adding to my frustration and stress; but I don't. Maybe it's because I hoping Liam would pop by with a head full of stories that will make me forget all about the crap that's going on; or that I'll get drunk enough that I could join everyone in dancing.

"You're drinking. Again." If I wasn't tired, I would've jumped in fright from my seat.

"And you've miraculously found me." I state blandly, swishing the quarter-empty bottle in my hand. "Again."

Eric doesn't slide into the seat beside me like I thought he would've. "Come."

When I don't make a move, he grabs my other bottle. I groan. "Why can't I just stay here?"

Eric lifts an eyebrow as I fall in step with him. "You don't even want to be here." My mouth falls open and I gape like a fish. _Am I this obvious to read?_

"Well now I do." I bark back defiantly.

"You're drawing attention." He replies monotonously.

"I'm not-" True to his word, there are multiple heads turned our way. A growl builds in the back of my throat as my eye twitches. _Do the Dauntless have no life?_

"Keep that scowl on your face." Eric says loud enough for only me to hear. "Makes them think that you're in trouble."

"Easiest thing I've done today." I growl back.

Eric doesn't reply to my statement; his only response being a mirroring scowl. _Aren't we just the perfect not-really couple?_

We lapse into a silence all the way back to his apartment – of which the route I've yet to familiarize myself with. It feels nice, killer and scheming tendencies aside, to walk side by side with Eric. He makes it a point to walk next to me; not in front or behind, unless it's a narrow path. Either he's trying to indirectly tell me that he views me as an equal, or I'm just overthinking his actions to what I hope he's implying.

Eric speaks up after settling into the couch next to me, opened beer in hand. "What were you doing there."

_Gah, he sounds like fatherly Four now._Why did I even think for one moment that he wasn't going to ask about my reasons? "Trying to forget." I say simply, taking a swing from the bottle.

"Didn't seem like you had a bad day today..." He pipes confusingly; this is a new emotion I'm seeing from him. "Was it because Cole was faster than you?" Surprise, surprise; Eric checked out the trial times.

Cole was faster than me; by a solid thirty-seconds. If he's able to keep this up for the actual landscape, I would lose all leverage I have to steal his leadership spot. "No."

"Then?"

I feel hopeless. There is no chance of me doing anything now. With Jeanine pulling the strings on the Dauntless leadership already, what chances do I have to actually beat Cole? Four believes that the only reason Eric's a leader is because of Jeanine, and I would be a fool to dismiss that idea. Even if I did try to kill Cole, it's not enough to stop whatever they're planning, not to mention that I might be caught and killed for it. There is no position that could measure up to leadership, meaning that I basically have no way to instil anything into Dauntless. Sure, I could be an ambassador, but our job scope consists mostly of being messengers anyways.

I feel like a failure. My intentions of transferring was for peace, and with this new piece of information, I realize how immature my thought process was. I shouldn't have jumped into this blindly, maybe should've made some Dauntless friends in school to have a grasp on what's going on. I've failed my parents, John, Johanna. There is nothing I can do now but sit at the side-lines and watch everything unfold.

I feel useless. All my training to come here amounting up to nothing. The two years' worth of evenings my mother took all for training me going down the drain. Had I known that I wouldn't have a speck of chance at anything, I would've stayed at Amity. At least there, I could do something meaningful and enjoyable like improving the efficiency of farming or dog training.

There was still one thing I could try. "What do you think about him?" I break the silence.

"Cole?" I nod. Something flashes across his face – irritation. "Are you like this because of him?" He jerks upright from the couch. "You're kidding me right? Since when did you give _two fucks _about anyone here?" _Ouch. _"Hell. Was it something he say or did? Why the heck are you even thinking about him?" His voice has taken to a high pitch by now, bordering hysteria.

Out of all the things I could've said, why did I choose this?

"What? Do you think I like him or something? Gave him pointers on stage three?" I don't actually believe that Eric would've done it, unless ordered by Jeanine.

Nonetheless, my prolonged silence answers the question.

"You're joking right? Why the heck would I give two fucks about him?" Shame flushes through me and I'm too embarrassed to look at him now. Of course Eric wouldn't have helped Cole, they aren't even on talking terms. It was a stupid idea to even bring it up. "It was you I went up to this morning. Not Cole or whoever the fuck else you think I did. Why would you think I would help him?" His voice drowns out in the end like he realising something.

"Anna. Anna, look at me." His voice is down a notch that I'm familiar with. My eyes squeeze shut as my heart clenches painfully. I hate that I'm the cause of him like this; I don't want to be the cause of him like this. A hand grabs my chin and pulls it towards his face. I don't think I can do this. "Look. At. Me."

His grey eyes are raw, unguarded. He's confused, frustrated, afraid. "You thought I helped Cole?" Though it isn't his intentions, each word is like a stab to my chest, poking holes into the breaking dam.

I don't know what to believe. My restraint snaps and I jerk to my feet. "I can't." My voice cracks. "I can't; I can't; I can't" Why did it have to be Eric? Why couldn't it be anyone else except Eric? Life would be so easy if Eric wasn't thrown into the mess, I could make the right decisions for the benefit of everyone in spite of my feelings.

His eyebrows knit together as he stands. "You can't what?"

"This!" I gesture wildly between us. "Whatever this is! I can't do it."

"And why not?" _Why not? _Did he really just ask that?

I look at him incredulously. "Because! You're merciless, brutal, a killer and I-"

"Your accusations are based on?" His face should be turning red, a sign of growing anger, but it relaxes into calmness instead.

"People talk! They say enough about you!" And_I_know enough about you.

"And you believe them?" _Why is he so calm?_

"Then tell me that what everyone says is untrue." Please do. Please tell me that all the rumours are exactly what they are: rumours. Tell me that, no, you're not the man everyone says you are and that you won't stand in the way when I need to take action – whatever that may be. Tell me that I won't need to go through you first before I get to Jeanine and Max when the time comes.

Silence. Complete utter silence. I would've thought that him screaming at me would've hurt more, but the absence of anything is far worse. Eric's face hardens into the unemotional mask he wears out in public; one that he rarely shows to me.

"I can't." He says finally; emotionlessly. "Whatever they say about me… they're true."

All hope is crushed. I take a step back. "But you know I'm not like that with you." He starts back up, mask falling away and emotions resurfacing.

"It doesn't matter! I can't just ignore everything you've done and live in the bubble of lies you've built around me!" Yet, that's all the matters does it? That he isn't like that to me. Now that all I've worked for is lost, why not just settle down with Eric? Forget Jeanine, Max, Cole and peace. Since when was it my duty to set things right anyways?

"And you don't think that it's them I'm lying to?" He asks softly. Eric doesn't sound like a wounded puppy, he sounds disappointed. The way he says it tells me that _I_of all people should have known, and the worst part is, I _do_. I know I've seen the realest side of him that no one else has. I know there's a normal person underneath all the layers he's put on, a normal person like everyone else.

His pain overwhelms me like mine already does. "I-I-I…" I want to turn back time, to go back to when we first entered his apartment today. We shouldn't have argued. We should've drunk the night away, talking about nothing and everything, maybe even cuddle up and put on a movie. That would've made me forget; not this. "I'm sorry."

Eric turns away from me, backing into his kitchen. "You've nothing to apologize for."

His response throws me off guard. _What? _"No I-"

"You should've stayed in Amity." He says suddenly. _Where is of this coming from?_"You were happy there. It was foolish of you to transfer."

I frown quizzically at the weird change of subject. "And you think I'm not happy here?"

"Don't give me the 'I am happy' crap now." He snarls, knuckles going white with how hard he's clenching the counter. "The number of times you've laughed here completely sober is less than the number of fingers on my _hand_, you hardly smile and have yet to make any actual friends here." I blink. "And don't tell me that you're happy with me, cause your outburst from earlier clearly shows that you aren't."

I am speechless, but it doesn't matter to him.

Eric rubs his face wearily. "Ever since you've transferred, you're not the girl you were before and I hate it. There's nothing that I can do or have done that will ever measure up the any day back at Amity." He turns to face the sink, half-empty glass bottle left dejectedly at the counter. "That day I brought you to Amity. In those few measly hours you've shown more spark than all of your time here in Dauntless together. And that boy you're with…" He spits out distastefully. "Why did you even bother to _leave _him?"

How long has this been haunting Eric? I should feel creeped out because he basically proclaimed that he's been stalking me for God knows how long. I should scream and run away and tell him to get out of my life, but I can't.

There's something beautiful in his actions. To know that he isn't just lusting for any part of me. To know that he genuinely cares about my wellbeing, so much so that it eats him up inside. To admit that there is someone who could be better for me, even if he loathes that fact, takes guts and a bit more than an infatuation.

My mood drastically shifts and a small smile crosses my face as my heart swells. Had I known that Eric cared for me this much, I won't have any doubt about him. Within mere seconds I've closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around his waist. It's a bold move, one that I wouldn't have done if I wasn't feeling so brave through the alcoholic beverage. "John's related to me. He's happy that I transferred." Not my preferred topic of choice, considering that my actions is a new milestone between us, but it's essential.

The surprised man takes a few beats more before he finally relaxes against me. He's warm, even through the jacket he wears today. How I wish we could stay in this position forever. A hand rests on top of my arms. "You said you can't do this." He says quietly.

I rest my cheek against his jacket, arms tightening slightly around him. "You're right, I can't." It takes me a moment to put my feelings into words.

"Yet despite all you've said, I want nothing more but to give this a shot."

* * *

A/N

A long chapter; merry christmas? :P

Awfully tempted to write the last scene in Eric's POV, as well as one of the future chapters .-. But that would take time... and also expose Eric's thoughts.

Next update will be this Friday ^^


	20. 20

"You went to his apartment again."

I smile widely at my friend. "Yes, yes I did." He narrows his eyes. "But I didn't stay over."

"You didn't stay over." He confirms. "You're in a good mood too." _Damn right I am._

"Mhmm."

Last night was great; despite not doing much. After our whole outburst and make-up session, we pretty much went back to drinking and chilling. Eric didn't bother to bring back up my originally foul mood and I didn't bother to elaborate on it. We moved past everything that happened and decided to watch some television. To anyone else, it's boring stuff. However to me, it was a joy to spend time with him doing nothing of importance.

"Should I even bother to pry?" Four asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "We didn't do anything, just talk and watch tv."

It's obvious he doesn't believe me. "Right…"

I give him a pursed smile. "Eric's a normal person too you know." Can't really blame Four for thinking I've gone insane, I wouldn't have believed it three weeks ago either.

"And he didn't try anything?" He asks warily.

My eyebrows knit together. "Why would he try anything?"

"Eric's the type to take what he wants." Four states flatly.

Although that's true, based on what I've seen and what everyone's been saying, Eric is also known for doing the exact opposite when he's around me. "Eh. Not yet." I lift a shoulder. The furthest thing we've done is lean against each other and maybe some very mild cuddling. "Where you taking me anyways?"

Four miraculously takes the bait and changes the subject. "Training room."

This is what he wants to do first thing in the morning? Does he not have a sparring buddy his size? Someone as skilled as him perhaps? "The training room was two turns away though." I point out, clearly bewildered.

"That's the initiates room. This one, is for the members." Four's voice holds an extremely unusual undercurrent of excitement. This is the first time I'm seeing him try to keep his calm composure together.

We stop outside the large double doors. "Have you heard of Chase Tag?"

I did overhear the Dauntless-born talking about it once, but I didn't get the gist of it except that the 'Lions' won the most recent tournament. "Is it anything like tag?" I ask.

"Something like that." Four pushes down the handle and gestures for me to enter. "Just Dauntless-style."

I'm not sure I like the sound of that.

The member's training room is far bigger than the initiates. Fighting rings, lockers, water stations, punching bags were mostly the same, except much higher in quantity. What the defining factor that separates the two rooms are the rock-climbing wall that seems to lack safety equipment, random obstacle courses, and the weird collection of ramps and platforms erected by poles at the furthest corner of the room.

There aren't many Dauntless around at this time of the day, most of which are sparring or competing against each other on scaling the walls. And when I walked through the doors, very few turn towards us, with those who did nodding in greeting.

I do my best to nod back like I belong here.

"This way." We are heading towards the cluster of ramps and platforms. From my childhood experience, tag is usually held in a wide open space with minimal obstacles to allow running and to reduce injury from collisions. Looking at the relatively small square ring now, this form of 'tag' seems to be the exact opposite.

"Chase tag is… in a nutshell… A game of tag using any means necessary." Four has his instructor voice turned on, but it's overlapped with his growing excitement. "Dauntless holds tournaments; free-for-all and friendly matches at the Ramp every night apart from Mondays, with the competitions being every weekend. It's a Dauntless sport, so it's quite the event." I glance between the instructor and the obstacles, feeling a bit sceptical on how fully-fledged Dauntless members would find a child's game exciting. "People who play – if not by himself – are usually in a team with three to six members."

We stop in front of the square ring. "You're in a team then?" I ask.

"Lions." He replies nonchalantly, side glancing me as he rest his hands on his hips. I blink. "I take that you've heard of us then?" An out-of-character smirk spreads onto his face.

"Something like that."

"For team tournaments, we play a total of twelve rounds per match. Each round lasts a maximum of twenty seconds, with the minimum depending on how long it takes to tag the opponent. You'll typically play two rounds consecutively. The first round as the Tagger and the second as the 'Evader' or in simple terms, the runner. If you manage to successfully evade the round, you'll continue to stay on for the following rounds until you get tagged."

The rules seem simple enough… for now.

"The goals are simple. As the Tagger, your aim is to tag the opponent by simply touching them on any part of their body or clothing with your hand before the twenty seconds end, the time immediately stops when you do. While as for the Evader, your goal is to evade the Tagger until the twenty seconds is up."

Twenty seconds is a ridiculously long time given the size of the ring. "The tricky part is this: You are allowed use anything in the ring to your advantage. That includes going over, under, and through the platforms, ramps and poles.

To obtain a point, you must successfully complete an evasion. No point is given when you tag the opponent."

"So speed and size wins the match?" I muse. The game seems interesting, especially since that it doesn't have a brutal aspect to it – I think.

"Agility, reflexes and brains." Four corrects. "You need the ability to quickly access all possible escape routes and carry it out without ramming head-first into a pole, and also be able to predict where your opponent will move next." _Right._

I step into the ring and feel the poles. They are padded with a decent layer of foam, no doubt just thick enough to prevent a broken nose. Climbing onto the platforms, I try to familiarize myself with the feeling of climbing up and sliding down from them. Training with my dogs have sure given me a head start on agility, but this is a whole new level. Dodging and being able to jump from platform to platform is a far cry from side stepping a running dog or an incoming hit.

"This is a relatively small and simple ring compared to the actual one at the Ramp, but it's a good place to start first." _Wait, we're doing this now? _I watch in complete horror as Four moves to the other end of the ring. "We'll start of slow... I'm the Tagger. Let's begin."

Either my ears have a tendency of slotting in unsaid words, or Four definition of slow is fast. Everything muscle in my body tenses as I watch with wide eyes at the man who's swinging himself over the narrow platforms and rapidly closing the distance between us. Why did I agree to follow him at the first place?

Four is from Lions – last weekend's winning team. It must be some sick joke to place a rookie with a veteran like him. Does Eric do this for fun too? Do Dauntless members come here to play the sport in order to feel superior?

Only when Four's a mere five feet away with his arm about to stretch out does adrenaline kick in. Panic fills me as I shriek and dive to the left, under the a square platform. The pain from heavy landing doesn't register before I'm already scrambling onto my feet and grabbing a nearby pole to launch myself further away from Four. A quick glance over my shoulder shows Four redirecting his path. I grab two more poles and hoist myself up another wide platform, wasting no time running down a narrow elevated path towards the opposite side of the room. This is some kind of predator and prey survival chase, and I don't think I'll survive much longer.

Four's only a few feet away from me now. My heart thunders in my chest as I hop off the platform and make a desperate scram to the other side of the room. How does one voluntarily join a sport where they run for their lives? Then as I was passing another elevated platform, a large shadow looms over me. Random scenes of my life flashes over me as the hand of death comes flying down. This is it.

"Tag."

I groan and collapse onto the floor like a beaten-up puppy. "How long was that?"

Four glances at the watch I've never seen him wear. "About twelve seconds."

Twelve seconds only? That felt like a solid half a minute.

But being able to evade for twelve seconds is a solid start. "That's not too bad for a beginner right?"

"It's pretty bad." Four rests his forearms onto the railing above and stares down at me. "And I did go easy on you too."_Just _the confidence boost I needed. "But it's a decent start. At least you didn't freeze on the spot."

That wasn't the tiniest bit reassuring. "What am I doing this for anyways?" Four has his own team already, so what's the point on introducing the sport to me?

His eyes light up like he's been expecting this question. "Oh, there's a tournament tomorrow night and Lynn has to help her mom. So you're the sub." For a person who takes his instructor job very seriously, Four seems awfully casual about placing me without _consent _and without _experience _into Dauntless' winning team. "Tournament starts from eight evening all the way up to eleven. I'll bring you there tonight to see this week's layout."

I squint at the man. "Did it not occur to you that I might not want to join your team? Especially with my final exam being the following morning?"

Instead of being apologetic, Four cocks his head and points to me. "You would've said yes anyways."

Well that's beside the point.

He continues to blabber on. "And also, I bet you're growing bored with running laps and punching inanimate objects every evening." Scowling comes easy to me, mainly because he is right.

"On the bright side – as if this wasn't already bright enough – you get points for winning _and _you make friends while at it." Four sounds awfully lot like John. However unlike John, I can't tackle Four to the ground for what he just said.

* * *

The Ramp is relatively packed with people considering that it's a work day. Four did mention that the Dauntless tend to spend their free time one of the three following places: The Pit, The Ramp and The Ring – I have an educated guess on what the last one is.

Staring at the two 12x12 meter square rings, I realise that the one in the training room might as well be for toddlers. In place of the foam covered poles and cushioned floors are black metal ones and shiny wooden flooring; stuff that could definitely break noses and scrap knees. Other than the obvious change in obstacle placement, Four did mention that flooring material changes every tournament as well, to provide more variation.

As if everything wasn't already ridiculous enough, the rows of bleachers add to that. From a cursory glance, there is no doubt of its capacity to hold more than half of the Dauntless population, making this the second biggest hall I've seen around here. There are high definition flat screens mounted up above the rings, providing a better view when the real matches start. With all the lighting, equipment, speakers and high ceilings, this place only lacks a snack station to complete the whole stadium vibe.

All in all, as preposterous and somewhat dangerous this 'game' is, I have to admit that the effort place into this is superb.

A childish male's voice gains our attention. "Four! Four!" My head turns towards the general direction of the source, locating a dark-skinned male pushing his way to us. "The teams are up, and I don't think you'll like what you'll see." Despite his words, the man still seems pretty cheerful about it. At first glance, the young man seems young and immature; someone I wouldn't willingly associate myself with.

This must be Uriah.

Four did brief me on his teammates – Zeke, Uriah and Lynn – but didn't say much about them other than their looks. "Oh hey! You must be Anna." Uriah stops three feet away from me and sticks out his hand. I've yet to master the handshake. "I'm Uriah." He introduces. I try not to stare at the way our hands awkwardly wiggle together. Uriah then gestures the air. "So, what do you think?"

I force myself to move past the traumatic handshake experience. "It's urm…" My eyes drift to the pair of players in the ring closest to me. They move fast, jumping over obstacles like it doesn't require a substantial amount of upper body and arm strength to perform such move sets. There is not a single doubt in me that I wouldn't last a solid ten seconds. "…intimidating."

Uriah looks over his shoulder to follow my line of sight. "Ah. Well, that's perfectly normal for anyone who hasn't done it themselves. The pair right here is a typical match, doesn't really get easier than this unless you're up with the young dependants." The moment the words leaves his tongue, blood drains from my face.

_Is this what Riley feels like on a daily basis?_

A nudge from my shoulder informs me that I've been standing frozen on the spot while Uriah had walked back to where he came from. I nervously follow behind Four, feeling like a lamb in the lion's den.

There was absolutely no way I was going to make it here. Even though Four and I spent the most of the day practicing, all my confidence came crashing when the moment I entered the stadium. The men playing now are far better than me and it's only a _practice_.

"So, which are the teams tomorrow?" We've stopped in a small empty space near the bleachers. This is probably where the teams wait out their turns. Uriah stands next to another dark-skinned man that resembles him – Zeke.

Instead of replying Four's question, Zeke's eye light up as he roughly shoves Four – my comfort blanket – aside, exposing me. "Ah yes. First jumper and peace-lover Anna. It's a pleasure to meet you." Zeke dramatically bows and takes my hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. I stare oddly at the man and Four, unsure of what to do.

Thankfully, the moment doesn't last long, as Zeke straightens up just as quick as he bowed. "And here I thought Four was just lying to me to get me off his back. Had I known that he had you in mind, I wouldn't have set him up for so many blind dates." Zeke breaks his dreamy voice to glare at his friend accusingly. "And you're joining us too, what a great catch." He sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

My brain lags as I attempt to process his words and implications. Luckily, Four seems to be slightly better at situations like these. "No, we're not-"

A finger is pressed to his lips. It's amazing to see Zeke pull off a feat without the fear of being punched in the face. "Shh, it's alright." The bold man turns to me and whispers in an overly-sweet motherly voice. "You see, Four here is pretty bad when it comes to girls, but I'm sure you're well aware of that. Nonetheless, I assure you that no matter what he says, he actually cares for you deep," he places a firm hand on his heart to illustrate, "deep down."

My face turns beet red. I hope with all my heart that Four does not have feelings for me like Zeke proclaim he does. "We're not together at all." I clarify. "Strictly just friends." I side glance at Four for confirmation.

Please tell me this isn't what it looks like.

He nods with a bit more force than necessary. "Yes, strictly just friends. Just like me and you." Four blurts out to Zeke, who's eyes dart between us sceptically.

Panic does unexpected things to a person, and this is something not even Four can avoid. "Plus, she's also wit-"

"And… We aren't going to discuss my private life right now." I interrupt abruptly, eyes fully blown out by how Four almost exposed my uncertain relationship with his enemy.

Four seems to realise his mistake, as he quickly clamps his mouth shut and shoots me an apologetic look. "So you're taken?" Uriah pipes quizzically over his brother's shoulder.

I blink. I'm not sure what exactly is going on between me and Eric, other than the fact that I agreed to try things out with him. So in terms of labels, 'taken' doesn't quite fit. Maybe 'occupied' or 'in-progress'? "Erm… I mean… I thin-"

"Yes. Yes she is." Four replies for me. "See? No hard feelings from me, meaning there aren't any romantic feelings between us."

_Thank the heavens. _

Zeke narrows his eyes at his friend and takes a step towards him until they're almost chest-to-chest. "You're a complete numbskull you hear me?" It is the common assumption that Zeke meant the words to be heard only between the two of them, but judging by how Uriah yelled 'complete pansycake' right after, I don't think it quite worked.

Either way, the dark-skinned man didn't seem to mind the eavesdroppers as he immediately steps back like nothing happened. "I'm gonna hit up Stacy by the way, next week, Friday night." He proclaims, lifting an eyebrow to dare Four to object.

Anyone who can do this to the Fearsome Four is definitely a friend of mine.

Zeke shifts his attention to me, voicing becoming extremely gruff and haunting. "So Anna. Four tells me that you have the potential in joining our top Tag team – the Lions. Do show us-"

Four interjects impatiently, already recovered from his minute of shock. "Get a move on. She's already frightened as it is already."

I flush from embarrassment.

Like a switch, Uriah shoves his older brother aside and takes over. "Welcome to the team! Do ignore what my idiot bro-"

"You're the idiot brother!" said man retorts.

Zeke's whine falls on deaf ears. "-ther says. We mostly play for fun than competition; and also occasionally win while we're at it." Uriah winks and I try not to cringe. "Chase tag is not as scary as it looks; once you get the hang of it. The burst of adrenaline you get the moment a match starts will definitely make you as capable as what you see up there." Despite the reassurance, I still doubt his words, for I recall practicing with Four and still not being able to be as fast as them.

"We signed up for the tournament tomorrow because Zeke and I need a bit more credits to buy our mother a gift." I guess that's sweet; erratic tendencies ignored. "No stress though, just need to beat two or three teams and we're good."

_Ha; right._

Zeke pulls out a tablet and places it on the square tablet in front of us. Tapping a few things here and there, he pulls out a list of animal names which I assume represent other teams. "Tomorrow's competition is not looking too bad." For the first time this past five minutes, Zeke sounds like a normal person. "We should be about to beat or tie with everyone except the Sharks; I'm not too confident about them." I stare at the eight names in front of me, already feeling nauseous at the thought of having to beat each one of the other seven teams. It really does suck being the weakest link for once – even if the rest don't seem bothered by it.

"Sharks again?" Four asks. "Let me look at that." The perplexed man taps the screen like the name would suddenly flicker off. And as predicted, it doesn't. "What's with Axel being here all the time? Is he taking a break or something?"

Zeke lifts a shoulder and twists his hands. "Beats me. We will probably be facing them at one point or another, it's just a matter of when."

I definitely don't like the sound of that.

**A/N**

**Just wanna thank everyone who's favourited and followed the story ^^ Really appreciate the support :) (I'm pretty crap at expressing gratitude haha .-.)**

**Chase tag is an actual thing, stumbled upon it on snapchat. It's called World Chase Tag. (Credits go to them.) It's really hard to stop watching once it starts because of how short and compelling the matches are. I hope you guys understand how the game works, if you don't, please do tell me so I can describe it in more detail. :P**

**Next update is on the 30th :)**


	21. 21

Never would I have thought that Dauntless members of all ages would be so invested in such a sport. The bleachers today are jammed back with people, everyone squashed together like sardines. Though Four did mention that a good chunk of the audience are family or friends of the participants, I'm still shell-shocked at the vast amount.

Standing beneath the slightly elevated ring where Uriah plays as the Evader, I can't help but feel the same sense of dread I've felt every moment before my match starts. For a beginner, I've apparently made 'decent' progress, which is losing to four evasions out of the ten I've faced so far. Four has reassured me every time I walk out of the ring as the failed-Tagger that giving the opposing team a point was nothing. But it is something, especially when I quickly caught on that evasions are generally rare in occurrence. So far, we've lost the once out of three matches, with me being the cause of it – not that the trio would ever admit it aloud.

Currently, we are up against the Sharks; the final match-up of the night for us. Zeke did explain to me that each team will face four other teams in a tournament, with the determining factor on the rankings being the number of teams beaten and successful evasions. I guess we can kiss the number one spot goodbye.

Uriah manages to seal an evasion and the crowd goes wild. It's the first evasion from the Sharks this whole night. A deafening horn blows to signal the end of the twenty seconds. Uriah's win is good – as winning allows him to stay another round – this gives me another minute of mental preparation before it's my turn. The ecstatic dependent clasps his opponent's hand and pats his back before fist bumping the air. On the raised arm is a narrow strip of mustard-colored band that clings onto his bicep, a visible mark of his team. My eyes flicker to the identical one on my sleeved-arm, feeling unworthy of such a significant emblem.

Axel is Silver.

According to Uriah, Eric's friend is quite a force to be reckoned with. And from what I've seen so far, the silver-haired man is the most volatile and versatile player out of everyone here. If I thought Four was fast, he was undoubtedly faster. He has the ability to outcompete anyone in his path with an unwavering smirk on his face; and it's quite nerve-racking.

There are two things that are common knowledge when it comes to Axel. The first; the team never plays without him. The second; the team always win when they do. Which was why it was such a huge deal when the Lions won the previous tournament. I don't think the rest of my team particularly enjoys living in the shadows of their accomplishments, and that's all because of me. It is obvious that the team did not need another member just because Lynn couldn't participate. Four himself said that Tag teams consist of three to six members, so I wasn't really needed in order for the team to play. Lynn's absence is more of an excuse than anything really.

Self-wallowing aside, another thing I unintentionally learned from Uriah's rambling is that Axel is the head of the patrol sector; hence he is often rotating between factions to keep security up to date. In simpler terms, as Zeke deem me unable to grasp the concept, Axel is basically the head 'police' of Chicago.

Uriah's next opponent is a big blurry man. It is rare to find bulky bodybuilders in Chase Tag, mainly because large muscle tends to be more of a disadvantage in a game of speed and mobility. This man didn't play in the previous rounds, a sign that he is a back-up or secret weapon; and I can see why.

Uriah loses to the bulky man, missing the miniscule opportunity to dodge the man and getting himself cornered. This situation of being cornered with only an obstacle separating isn't often a disadvantage, but with someone that's large enough to cover all exits with a lurch, it means certain death.

Luckily for me, I'm everything this man isn't – small and agile, a huge advantage of being the Tagger. Assessing the thirteen seconds of him in action, I've already located his movement habits and weaknesses. Uriah wishes me good luck with a pant, appearing slightly rattled by his experience. I give him a tight-lipped smile and step onto the ring. Should I play this right, the bulky man won't be able to escape my grasp.

The match starts out with me cornering him, like every match does unless inexperienced. But unlike the effect he had on Uriah earlier, I am unable to catch him as he sidesteps the square obstacle and slips away from our deadlock. Improvising quickly, I hop over the low raised barriers, copying the footsteps he made a mere second ago.

I seize the opportunity the moment I see it. Four's advice to me was to go under, not over, after seeing that me climbing over the un-hopable platforms was wasting precious time. My first few tries at the technique was difficult since it was difficult to slide in foam mats, but with the tournaments polished-wooden flooring, I am able to pull it off with the help of long sleeve shirts.

I belly-flop under the platform the moment the man's second foot leaves the ground. The momentum built from the running slides me forward right underneath where my opponent is transferring. Instinctively, my hand stretches out above my head and reaches towards the other end of the platform.

His foot lands exactly as I predicted and the match ends.

A large hand is extended above my head as I take my time to crawl out. My defeated opponent pulls me up and congratulates me while I acknowledge that it was a good match. Hand-shaking has now become normal for me. It's extremely difficult to feel anything negative after a match with how the contagious the opposite party's glee is regardless of the result. Every single match I've seen ends with wide grins, handshakes and friendly hugs, a perfect environment to minimalize hard-feelings and making people like me, feel accepted.

So despite my losses, I can't help admit that I did have fun either way, and that the environment here gives me the encouragement I need to continue on.

However, my victory doesn't last long.

The next opponent I'm facing is the Shark himself – Axel. Though we've never formally introduced or interact, I can't help but feel an impending sense of doom and embarrassment by how our first social interaction consisted of me being tipsy.

The lean man trots up to the stage with his eyes hard and I unconsciously take a step back in spite of the fact that I was already across the ring. There was no wide grin he gave me the first time he saw me at the cafeteria or anyone else he's been up against with tonight, nor any friendly gesture to indicate openness. My eyes flicker down to my teammates as a desperate cry for help, but they can't see what I'm seeing from where they're standing. There is not a single doubt in me that Axel's expression is more than just an intimidation tactic, it's personal.

And I have no idea why.

The invisible announcer booms through the extensive sound system. "Chasers to the ready!"

The horn blares too quickly for me to scuff my memory for answers. Alarm bells go off my head as the veteran swiftly closes the distance between us. Even if the nature of the game protects players from getting harmed by the other, I'm not sure if this rule applies to all-stars like him. I hope this rule applies to him.

We're in a deadlock – just like how most matches start.

"Eric's girl, yeah?" The volume and tone of his voice tells me that he's been planning this conversation for a while now, as no one else could hear him except me.

My mouth grows dry and I break out in a cold sweat. Out of all the things he could've brought up instead, he goes straight into one of the only people that I truly care about. He leaps over the platform separating us, resulting in me jerking to the side and scramming the other direction.

I'm no fool to believe that I pulled-off the maneuver without his mercy.

A millisecond glance over my shoulder informs me that Axel is only a few feet away from me. Making a hasty decision, I climb onto the platform in front of me and scramble to my feet. I push off the platform to land on another adjacent to it. It was my assumption that my opponent would've copied me, which would've have increased the chances of an evasion. Instead, Axel follows me from below, causing my plan to backfire immediately. Seeing that my legs are awfully exposed to tagging, I hop down the moment I reach a wide platform.

We're back in a deadlock, and I wish that's all Axel wanted to know – whether I was Eric's 'girl'. But of course, Axel wasn't quite done with me yet. "I don't know what you're playing at…" Instantly, my body freezes. I'm not playing anything.

To anyone else, it would seem like Axel is just taunting me while I try formulate a plan to escape. But to me, it feels like the man is holding me at gunpoint.

"…but Eric doesn't need another drunk, liar _and _cheater in his life." I stare at him stunned. Is this what I look like to Eric? Is this what he sees in me? "So, if I were you, I would. Back. The. Fuck. Off."

My knees suddenly go weak and I stumble backwards, red hot pain flashing from my tailbone. The menacing appearance my opponent had disappears like a switch. I can't even react when he reaches between horizontal bars to tap my bended knee.

His threat was loud and clear, but that's not what I'm speechless over. I am confused; I am horrified; I am ashamed.

A horn blares from a distance.

Four hoists me up to my feet, concerned eyes scanning my face. "You alright?"

My heart thumps heavily in my chest as Axel's words sinks in. I need to leave; now. "Yeah, I'm fine." A forced chuckle escapes me. "Just tripped over my feet in panic. Haha. You should go, by the way, you're up next." Four opens his mouth to reply, but a quick glance at the impatient referee indicates that he's distracted. I turn away before he can say anything, climbing under the ropes to exit the ring.

Zeke is the next to check up on me. "Hey, you took a big fall earlier, you okay?"

At this stage, everything has suddenly gone numb. "Yeah. I think I'm going to head back to the dorms, feeling a bit tired and all." Even my words are flat.

Zeke is thrown off guard. "Oh, err, right. Fear landscape tomorrow. Err… good luck on that."

All I can manage out is a nod before I'm already pushing my way towards the exit.

Axel is Eric's close friend. Is this what Eric tells him? That I'm a liar and drunk? For cheater, I'm guessing that it's because of Liam or that I'm hanging with Four here in Chase Tag. Maybe he couldn't bear hurt my feelings directly and asked if Axel could do it for him, since Axel is his friend after all. I'm not even mad if he did, for I can see where he's coming from.

* * *

I've barely just exited the Ramp when another voice calls for me.

Right at the doorway, stands the man who makes me questions everything I am and believes in, disheveled. It's almost like he just went through great lengths to catch up with me; though, I'm not sure if it's an act.

When I don't reply, he calls again. "Anna." As he begins to moves towards me, it dawns on me that Eric is last person I need right now. Every time he's around, I'm unable to form coherent thoughts. "Anna, hey-"

My hand stretches out to stop him in his tracks, and he mercifully does just that. "I'm fine." We can't do this, it isn't healthy. "I'm fine."

He merely grabs my wrist and pulls my arm down, stepping too close for me to be comfortable with. "You're not fine." He states, slate grey staring down into my own.

"I just trip, that's all." I need to get away from him; I must get away from him. What am I supposed to believe? What Axel says or the way he acts now – gentle and distressed over my wellbeing?

He sees right through me, like he always does. If I could do the same for him, I would be as conflicted as I am half the time. "Sure as hell didn't seem like it. What happened?"

I start backing away. It is vital to separate myself from Eric as quickly as possible. I want to head to the dorms, to rest and forget about everything from the moment Axel stepped onto the ring. "Nothing." My voice is an octave higher than normal. I'm lying again, just like what Axel said I am. "Nothing happened. I just- I just need to head back to rest; I have a big day tomorrow."

Eric seizes my shoulders to stop me from moving. "No," he growls. "You're not going back in this state." Any day before today, my heart would've swelled at his words; but this time, his actions confuse me and I have to force myself to stare blankly at him. "Something happened earlier…" His brows furrow in thought.

I steel myself from all emotions as he racks his brain for the answer.

Perhaps I am overthinking this. Perhaps it's not Eric who thinks I'm a liar, drunk and cheater, but Axel instead. Perhaps I have been reading Eric like he reads me, just that I find it difficult to believe what others don't see. But even if these are true, Axel's words have been too deeply ingrained into my brain to be dismissed as untrue.

After a few beats of silence, his frown disappears in realization. "Axel said something to you." Just like our whole conversation tonight, he manages to answer the question himself. "What did he say?"

"Nothing that isn't true."

That isn't a lie. Axel's words had woken me up. I had been so selfish all this time, thinking about how Eric isn't good enough for me that I never considered myself being good enough for him. Axel was right; Eric deserves better than a drunk. He shouldn't be with someone that can't keep themselves together when the going gets tough. He shouldn't be picking up after someone who've wasted the night away. He shouldn't be carrying someone back to his apartment just because she doesn't want to sleep at her own – a petty princess who complains about others' suffering.

Eric deserves better than a liar too. He shouldn't be with someone who knows he's been looking hopelessly for her and chooses to do nothing about it. He shouldn't be with someone who claims would give a shot to the relationship but still has doubts at the back of her head. He shouldn't be with someone who intentionally keeps secrets from him.

Hell. Not even I would date me.

Eric is capable. Eric is smart. Eric is caring and Eric has a heart.

Which is exactly why he deserves someone far better than me; and I've never felt so flawed in my entire life.

"What. Did. He. Say?" The man in front of me asks the question slowly; trepidation is visibly growing on his face.

Why does it matter? "I think we shouldn't do this." I say.

Eric's nose flares as he jerks back incredulous. "Axel told you that?"

"No, I decided that myself." No longer am I going to continue being selfish by holding him back. He should find someone good, someone true, and someone who fully believes in him.

The hands on my shoulders tightened to an almost bruising force. "No."

My head tilts in confusion. "No?" This is his golden getaway ticket, an open door to walk out a free man – a man who deserves better.

"Yes no. I don't believe for a second that you decided that by yourself and no, we are not doing this again." He growls. "You said we'll give this a shot. And therefore, we will give this a shot."

My brows knit together as I stare back at him. Why does he still want me if I push him away so often? "Yes, but I've changed my mind and I-"

I'm pulled into a hug.

The hug is unfamiliar yet familiar all at once. It's as if it wasn't a new milestone we've surpassed, progress on the shaky ground. It's warm and soft, the exact opposite as how everyone else views Eric.

"You're not leaving."

Being so up close, Eric smells of safety - as if everything will be alright as long as I'm with him.

And I want that.

I want to be selfish. I want to keep him to myself; this wonderful man that no one else sees. What's selfish anyways? Denying what both of us want or remaining as we are?

There isn't really a right answer to it, is there?

"I don't know." I say.

His head is buried in my hair. "You said you didn't want anything more than to give this a shot. What's there to not know?"

What _is _there to not know? He likes me and I like him, isn't that all that matters now? He must see something in me to want to keep me around, right?

The prolonged silence and my inability to reply makes Eric speak up. "You overthink too much."

"I guess I do." I sigh, finally encircling my arms around his waist. Eric's form engulfs me, just like my thoughts and feelings for him. But for now, it's just the right amount. Unlike me, who's thoughts are running miles an hour, his are simple. To him, there isn't much to it; which is that he likes me and that's all that matters. And that's all that really matters.

He presses his lips to my forehead. "Then don't." His solution is simple; I need that simplicity in my life.

Maybe he's right, I've been overthinking everything and letting every tiny thing get into my head. Maybe I shouldn't overthink it, and just go with the flow.

* * *

**A/N**

**If there's anything that confuses you (whether its a particular scene or plot line) please do tell me. I appreciate feedback and will work on it. It is my first time writing a full fledged story, so I get slightly self-concious on whether I'm getting the flow of words right ':P**

**A-levels is starting this Saturday, so I think i'll be really busy in general. I am hoping to update this Sunday. (Really depends on my progress with my writing)**

The next chapter was pretty hellish. Well, writing this chapter was pretty hellish too, particularly the last scene. My brain lags when I have to write emotional-anger filled scenes because I'm trying to figure out how to translate the feeling into words and also how the character should react.

I'm also mildly aware that Anna is going around in circles and that their relationship is progressing really slowly haha .-. I shall attempt to work on that. Hopefully I'll able to put an end to that in the chapter i'm writing (chapter 23)


	22. 22

Had I gotten more sleep, I would've been more prepared for the final day of initiation.

Today is stressful. Staring at the tinted leaders' observation room, I'm reminded of Cole being a pawn of Jeanine's.

The devil herself is here today and it's difficult not to notice her. She stands out like a sore thumb in her pish-posh blue jacket and with the two lackeys who follow her around like lost puppies. I should be amused on how Jeanine's hair is tied into a ridiculously tight bun, giving her face the resemblance of a chicken egg; instead, I'm focused on the two female lackeys. It's pathetic really, because even my dogs don't look as stupid when walking with me. I do wonder what she did to train them to walk to heel like that, God forbid I ever restrain my dogs of freedom unless absolutely necessary.

However, my hostility towards the two lackeys I've never met isn't because the girls walk like idiots in their absurdly tall high heels, but because of their shameless ogling whenever Eric walks out of the observation room to congratulate the shaken-up initiate. Technically, it's only the black haired one that's ogling, since the other seems to be uninterested unless nudged by the shoulder.

I've yet to come up with a logical reason as to why Jeanine decided that two girls who can barely walk and wear bordering-skimpy dresses offer far better brains and protection than two males ones.

Going back to the _true _competition – since Eric doesn't seem to even acknowledge the girls – I stop glaring at them and turn to Cole. The feelings of failure and impending dread should overwhelm me, just like it did when I was in Eric's apartment.

But looking at him now, I feel nothing towards the boy.

Maybe it's because I've taken a page out of Eric's guide to relationships – to not overthink – and decided that I shall not let a brutish boy consume my entire being. He deserves no such privilege from me.

Or maybe it's because I've never been a competitive type. All my training sessions with mom consisted of me thriving to improve myself instead of beating others or purposefully getting ahead of the group. So, looking at Cole now, I don't see someone I should beat. Rather, I see him as an inconvenience to my plans.

Or maybe it's because of Four, who decided to throw me into a game of endless cat and mouse these past two days. His distraction has kept my mind off all my problems, unknowingly forcing me to desensitize and detach from my reservations.

In retrospect, chase tag didn't only distract me, but it also made me feel accepted – like life wouldn't be so lonely without my family. As much I would hate to admit that he's right, I did enjoy the company of the Pedrad brothers. Had Four not audaciously introduce me to them, I would have never known what it feels like to be around such high-spirited people.

Being around them is like having a weight lifted off my shoulders. They have this aura that makes you feel as if you've been friends since young. The stories they tell about their pranks and Four's failed dates had me crying in laughter; and it's hard not to open up to them.

A seed of light was planted in me at that moment; maybe Dauntless could be my home.

Of course, this is ignoring the whole exchange involving Axel.

Cole makes his way into the landscape theater without a falter in his step. Jeanine grins widely at her meticulously groomed subject, causing a scowl to form on my face as I think about how she probably was like this with Eric. Never would I ever understand why people are able to consciously use others for their benefit. Forget the perks that come with it, the subjects will live in a world they didn't build themselves, and I believe that's the worst part – to know that everything you have is because of someone else. Even though my dogs were created as weapons, I sure as hell don't treat them like that. These animals are part of my family, and I would do _anything _to make sure they live a life full of love and what they deserve. Sure, they have their flaws and their odd quirks, but never would I ever give them up because of it.

As predicted, Cole flies past each fear as if his body has been set to stone. It is only logical to assume that he had gotten some practice in these past three days while I had goofed off with Four on Chase Tag. Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy spending time with the mirthful trio of Lions and the Pedrads' ability to crack jokes at every corner. In fact, I can imagine myself joining the odd band of new friends I made, just that I'll have to desensitize my dogs to the game once they arrive – I hope they will.

Cole's time is thirteen fears in five minutes twenty-one seconds. That's remarkably fast considering that Jace's time was almost seven minutes. However, that's not what draws my attention. For the first time since the fear landscapes started, Eric's head is turned to Jeanine's instead of the initiate.

It's a brief gesture; one that only lasted for a second. Still, nothing escapes my scrutinizing gaze when it involves Eric.

From the back of his head, I can't tell his expression towards Erudite's leader. Jeanine doesn't acknowledge him, applauding with a close-lipped smile along with the rest of the Dauntless audience.

I should dissect the intentions of the glance, to pull out all the possibilities on why Eric momentarily let his indifference demeanor slip, but I won't. I'm acutely aware of my tendency to overthink and blow things out of proportion, creating cracks on an already unstable relationship.

The glance is dismissed as a whim.

Once the young leader reaches Cole, he relaxes into a customary smile and shakes his hand like the rest of the leaders do. There are four of them present today. The other two are a lady with long maroon hair and another male with his blond hair tied into a bun. Four did tell me that the other three leaders are called Kyle, Veronica and Jessica, which by the looks of it, Jessica – who's being replaced – is the one that isn't present.

After the series of unnecessary handshakes and congratulations, Cole walks off the room towards Jeanine and her lackeys. The uninterested lackey beams as he approaches, a clear indication that there is more to them than strangers. As much as I would like to stare at them some more and try to figure out what is going on, I feel something heavy settle on me. It's the same feeling I felt on my last day at the fields.

Eric's staring at me.

I would've thought that he would give me a smile or mouth a 'good luck', but he's frowning at me like he's confused. There's not a doubt in me that he wants to talk once all this boil over.

About what, I'm not sure.

* * *

I step up to where Four holds the syringe for the final time.

Last night, I spent a long time thinking about my eight fears. Even though Eric walked me back to the dorms wishing me good luck, the warm fuzziness that bloomed in me quickly diminished as the dread of today took over. I should be thankful for having the less than average number of fears, but with the self-added pressure of having to be the fastest, I find it hard to even be grateful.

"We need to talk." He says.

Coming from a life where I've chosen to grow up in solitude, I am hesitant and inexperience when it comes to catering other's needs. This is probably why Riley has never quite confided in me despite me quite being the only person she talks to – if you consider asking menial things as talking – in the dorms. My lack of emotion and care towards what's going on in her life and her feelings towards Jace have unintentionally turned away the possibility of a friendship ever blooming – not that I wanted one with her anyways.

As for Skylar, she seems utterly content when I sparsely accept her offers of going to the Pit or having a – what she likes to call it – 'girls night out'. She doesn't seem to mind my absentminded nodding as she drones on and on about Zack. This leads me to think that perhaps this is what Zack is like to her, and that maybe she enjoys my company because I'm reasonably similar to him. Up till now, I'm still not quite sure how and why they are together. But it's not my place to judge.

My eyes haven't diverted from Four's, trying to gauge the reasoning of him wanting to meet up.

There were quite a few topics he could possibly be bothered with: my tripping, my abrupt leave last night, Lions, Chase Tag, Cole, Jeanine's presence, Jeanine's lackeys, Eric, Dauntless leadership, Faction system, yada yada yada.

I want to voice my apprehension and irritation towards his extreme vagueness, but Four gives the impression that he wouldn't elaborate.

So after shuffling my hair to the side, I reply him rigidly. "Before dinner today at five preferably." The initiation party starts at seven.

Four merely hums in agreement as he pokes the needle into my neck. My racing thoughts skid to a stop as I wince and glare at the door in front of me, not at all appreciating the lack of numbing substances that should be applied before performing tasks like these.

With a barely audible mumble of 'all the best', I push the door open into the landscape room.

* * *

Staring at my deformed hands, I grit my teeth together and scan my bedroom.

According to my limited mental calculations, I have less than forty seconds to pass each stage if I were to beat Cole. Yet, it had completely and _conveniently _slipped my mind to get a watch for this.

Hole covered appendages is one of the few fears I've failed to find a solution of, which leaves the only option of calming down. Jumping onto the bed I miss dearly, I grab the edge of my blanket and roll around the mattress, forming the familiar cocoon I sleep in every night.

The pitiless holes scare me, but not as much as the rest of my fears, since I've yet to see a real-life case of a person having them. So, I focus on the comfort of my bed despite my racing heart. I focus on all the good nights I've spent in this room with Gunner by my feet. I focus on the mornings where I'm rudely woken up by my dogs who've taken up the superfluous task of ensuring I start each day first thing in the morning. I focus on how only during winter do all the dogs bunk in my bed, creating a mass of warmth, fur and blankets.

And just like that, I'm standing on the top of the building. All fuzziness and contentment slip away as my stomach drops. The wind howls tauntingly in my ear and a cold hand creeps up my spine. I sincerely hope that I'll never have to enter Dauntless like I did on the first day; for I think I would vomit my guts before anything else.

I pat my face with my hands and take a deep breath. The fear of heights is the fastest to overcome, but it's the mind that prevents that from happening.

Just like the first day I arrived to my new life, I picture Eric. His presence calms me in the face of fear even through all the uncertainty we face. I imagine him beside me, providing moral support that everything will be alright and reminiscing the hug from last night.

Breathe in.

With my mind distracted, my legs loosen from their steel-like form and I break into a sprint. I keep my eyes up, knowing that the mistake of looking down will cost precious time.

Breathe out.

I shut my eyes as the ground disappears from my feet.

I yelp as pain shoots up my legs, forcing them to buckle as I tumble unceremoniously onto the ground. Unlike my previous two fears, this time I'm not alone. The familiar disgusting smell of dog breath is in my face as something wet trails up my face; something like… a… tongue.

My eyes snap open to thin stalks of grass and I scramble onto my unsteady knees. Gunner and Sabre is in front of me, looking as lively as the day I left them. In all my fear simulations, my dogs were only near me, not with me. This is the first time they're this close to me and unlike the fear sims, they are _alive_.

A toothy smile breaks out of my face as I bend down to the wagging mess, their tongues lolling out as they greet their owner. "Whachu doing you here?" I coo, hands weaving behind their ears. Their fur is just as soft and silky as I remember it, even coated with a thin layer of dirt from their capering in the fields. "Playtime?" Gunner pants loudly in excitement, the breaths sounding like 'yeah, yeah, yeah.'

My hand automatically reaches for the frisbee I always keep by my right, but a thought freezes my actions. Something wasn't quite right; and weren't I in a fear landscape, I wouldn't have sensed it. "Where's Hawk?"

My brain racks to pinpoint what fear this is, for losing my dogs isn't something I recall. A new fear? Hawk's disappearance doesn't instill fear in me; I have too much faith in my dogs to worry over their absence. Rather – if anything – it's the reasoning that does. A recognizable light brown hue registers in my peripherals. I look above my two remaining dogs and the answer clicks in place.

Standing fifty meters from our small group is Hawk. But unlike the duo, his attention isn't to my presence or the notion that it's playtime, it's to the sky.

I recognize his stance immediately; tail tucked between his legs, ears flat against his skull, eyes wide towards the rapidly greying sky. It's about to storm.

Just as the realization enters my head, a lightning bolt strikes the fence and fat wet bullets start falling.

Run.

The fear of lightning is from the courtesy of my dogs, though they mostly fear the merciless noise that comes with it. It is times like this where I regret bring them out to the field, for it was a horrible mile away from trees, much less shelter. Being a nerd at school, I had undoubtedly believed that the chances of being struck by lightning was close to zero, until my dogs proved it otherwise.

A year ago there was a young tree that grew in the middle of the field, probably planted by some child who thought Amity would be better off with more fruitless-bearing trees than grazing fields. The moment the tree hand grown slightly taller than me, the gods from above decided to end its despicable life, striking it down with a flash of light on one stormy day.

Of course, I wasn't next to it to witness such a monumental event. Hawk had refused to come out of the house that day, sensing the storm half an hour before it came. Either way, the damage was obvious when I came back the following day. The already thin trunk was split down into three, drooping like cooked spaghetti, while the leaves barely clung onto their frail branches.

Thinking back now, it was a comical sight. Though at that moment, I knew had not Hawk stubbornly stayed, that would've been me. And I'm next.

A loud clap of thunder shatters my thoughts like glass, fear of being killed fueling energy in my strides. I ineffectually rub my face over and over, each time only providing me with a short window of sight before being blinded with a new wave of stinging rainwater. On my sides and front are my dogs trotting with their heads lowered while I run as fast as my two legs can carry me through sinking mud. It embarrasses me that my speed is barely half theirs, and that I'm doing nothing except slowing them down.

I would like to believe that their unwavering loyalty is what prevents them from running ahead to find shelter quickly, but the knowledge that my dogs seek me for comfort tells me otherwise.

Nonetheless, I continue to give them the benefit of doubt.

The moment we hit the tree line, everything around me disappears and the weight of slick water is lifted from my clothes.

I'm back in my old home; specifically, my kitchen. Goosebumps trail up my skin as I stare at the small gap between the fridge and counter.

Rats and mice are the only animals that scare me shitless. Ask me to pick a roach by its antennae or a snake by its tail, I'll do it; everything except anything that involves these vermin. There's something about their disgustingly naked pink tails, filthy exterior and squishable-size that instills fear in me. Unlike bugs that die with a slight crunch, these animals squeal and bleed when harmed not even fatally.

Had my dogs come along, I wouldn't have a problem with this fear.

The small squeaks sound loud in my ears, an inevitable fate that we will collide.

Fear landscapes are where we think through the fear, so I hastily pat down my clothes, trying to find anything that will aid my survival.

There is a throwing knife in my pocket, but the image of me fighting off hundreds of squirming vermin with a pathetic piece of metal makes me nauseas already.

Instead, I scan the kitchen around me for any tools I could use. All the gleaming knifes fly past my scrutinizing gaze as I figure out another way to fight off the creatures. There must be another way out of this other than getting bitten all over like in the sims.

My attention latches onto the stove. _I could burn the place down. _

A blur of black makes me jolt and leap onto the counter. It's a huge rat, one that's half the size of a cat. Cold washes through me as the monstrous creature stares at me with its beady black eyes, snout twitching and hairless tail straight behind it. I press myself against the overhead cabinets, brain screaming for me to run away like I could actually outrun this nasty thing.

The silver stove gleams mockingly across the other side of the room, right next to the fridge. Survival instincts kick in and I scamper on the counters on all fours, the decision to take the long way a no-brainer.

The rat follows from down below, squeaking loudly at its inability to reach me. Another flash of black calls for my attention, a new rat has arrived from the gap I'm heading towards. This time, the flash of black doesn't end like it did at first, more rats are pouring out at a rapid pace. Their numbers increasing like a factory pumping out goods. Bile raises to my throat as I make the last turning to the stove. Time was precious now, every second led to new rats, and with it came the ability for them to climb onto my sinking boat.

When I reach the stove, a glimmer of hope came with it. The rats where attempting to crawl on top of each other now, reaching the halfway mark of the counter. The solution was easy; burn the house down and the rats with it. Yet staring dumbly at the circular metal now, I belatedly realize that I couldn't just turn on the stove and hope the surroundings will catch on fire.

The glimmer of hope dims as dread begin to overlap my fear. My plan was not as thought out as it should be, and I may have to resort to waving a butchering knife in the air at the unnaturally brave pests.

Fear landscapes are stupid for only providing one solution out. Once this is over, I promise myself to two bottles of apple cider to forget about this whole traumatic exper-

_Alcohol. _The idea sparks in my head.

_Alcohol is flammable. _

The new found hope spreads like wildfire as my focus diverts from the stove to the fridge. I've never been more grateful for my dad's weird experiments until now. Hope consumes the noise and trepidation in me as I reach forward to yank the refrigerator door open.

There in the illuminated led lights lays a bottle rum, used by my dad when he said it would improve his horrendous cooking. It didn't, for the food caught on fire and burned into a crisp while he yelled in a panicked frenzy for his wife to come and help.

I reach down and snatch the glass bottle containing the honey-colored liquid before a rat could reach it first, suddenly feeling feral now that this was my chance to survive through this shitty situation. In an extremely careless and hasty manner, I unscrew the stupid cap and chucked it into the sea of black, smirking maniacally at the loud squeal it caused. I waste no time to tip the bottle sideways, the golden liquid of survival spewing out onto the revolting creatures that are almost reaching the counter.

_I will survive._

"I'm gonna win this, you hear me?" I chuckle darkly towards the soaking rodents, my hand moving past them to douse the remaining liquid onto the stove.

Do these imaginary things honestly think they could control me? To eat up my wobbling mental state? They must be incredibly stupid. They aren't real, I'm just in a simulation. They are just stupid things wasting my time.

With that, I toss the bottle into the sea of black and twist the stove's knob.

The next scene I'm in contains my family. I move to stand onto my feet from my embarrassing crouch only to find a cold metal barrel pushing against my temple.

"Kill one to save the rest." The voice is cold and feminine, just like she always is. I glance at the pistol that has been shoved in my palm and then to the three other faceless men who have their guns trained on me. I'm aware that the magazine only contains one bullet, because the simulation tells me so.

On my left are my dogs, all three chained by their necks, barking and straining against their restraints. They seem as if they had contracted rabies with the foaming at their mouths and the sudden jerks they make in attempt to break the links. One well-aimed shot to Sabre's chain and I know all hell will break lose. My prized hound would leap without hesitation, jaws aimed at the armed arm since it's clear I'm being more than just lightly threatened. No command is need in such a situation, all his training and animalistic instincts will kick in as he tears threat after threat down, starting with Jeanine beside me.

What stops me from such a delicious fantasy is the even slightest, _slightest _possibility that Sabre might be shot before he even gets to the second person.

And I will not risk my pup's life.

Moving my armed hand away from my dogs, it turns towards my parents and John. The simulation copies nod encouragingly to me, wordlessly telling me that it's alright for me to kill them. My eyes twitches in irritation despite their efforts to comfort the 'supposed' turmoil in my head. There was no turmoil in the beginning, for I had already made up my mind before entering.

My hand snaps backwards and I shoot myself.

"How could you?" Dad shouts in my face, his earlier solemn expression now animated and is now just a foot in front of me. Mom flanks his side, looking at me with disappointment and regret. "After all we've sacrificed for you! These past two years of-"

His speech is cut short by a punch to his throat. Mom gasps in horror as she jolts forward to catch her stumbling spouse.

Four warned me about this fear because of the content and secrets it holds. Prolonging any interception will result in my secret plans spilling out for all to see. The punch to the throat was necessary. However, it didn't make it any less easy to perform. It took me a while to come to terms with punching the person whose been nothing but supportive, regardless of whether he was real right now or not.

I am technically cheating the system by forcing it to move on now that the conversation has been cut short. I pray the leaders observing me will pass off my action as an act of the infamous, unrestrained Dauntless temper than an attempt to hide whatever was on the tip of my father's tongue.

My next fear involved me chained at the sidelines. Not far ahead is another version of myself, the vicious beast that feeds me heinous thoughts and goads me to put people back into their place; especially people like Cole.

More often than not, I do not let such malicious whims overtake me, forcing myself to let it slip as Amity preaches. Regardless, I do dread the day I lose my control.

Facing the callous version of myself is mother. The air hitches in my throat at the replacement of John with her. John was supposed to be here, not her.

_No._

She is attempting to reason with me on a topic that doesn't register in my ears. The future plays out in my mind despite it not happening yet. I would beat her senseless, throwing punches and kicks she had painstakingly taught me. Mother would struggle to fight back, pleading and screaming at me to stop as she wouldn't lay a hand on her child despite all that's happening.

My heartbeat increases as panic fills me. The restraints pull against my wrist, a reminder that I can do nothing but watch as the simulation plays out.

I spent this past few days mentally desensitizing myself to John death on my hands, but mother is a whole different ball game.

This is the person I go to when the going gets tough. This is the person I go to when I've made a breakthrough in the dogs' training. This is the person I go to when I'm sick, sad, happy. This is my mother and best friend.

Hence, seeing me kill her is ten times worse than John.

But I must pull through.

I will myself to shut my eyes as her first bloodcurdling scream enters my ears. The emotionless side tells me time ticks away and I must act fast if I were to still rank first. There was no time to struggle or fight; all my efforts will be futile anyways.

So I think of nothing as she wails out my name. I grow limp against the restraints as I turn away from one of the most important persons in my life. My mind is blank against the violence, letting each yelp and sob exit my being just as quickly as it entered. Deep calming breaths. Breathe in; breathe out.

This is just a simulation. In the real world, I will not lay a hand on the people I love. Never would I ever lose my tight hold on my internal battles. Just as my dogs have learned to control their actions, I will do the same.

This is the promise I make.

* * *

Perhaps the last fear is the worst one.

Two different hands clasp mine on either side.

On my right is John. His hand is soft and familiar, a feeling I've associated with home. My hand is grasping his too hard, afraid of what's ahead.

His voice is full of hope and promise. "Let's go home."

Right behind him is my house.

Home.

Home is safety. Home is where life was easy, where I didn't question every step I took. Coming home would mean that I could go back to my simple yet happy life, where I could see mom and dad each day and tell them about my adventures.

But I gave up home the moment my blood split on the coals.

I stare sorrowfully at his face for the longest time, my heart aching for rest and solid ground. John doesn't say anything more than the three words, his face slowly dropping as I continue to hesitate.

The hand holding my left squeezes faintly. "Anna."

Eric stands on the other side, body already turned sideways almost as if he is impatient to leave. While my hand around John's is vice-like, my grip in Eric's is limp. His hand is calloused and gentle, just like the day on War Games. Here is the man who brings uncertainty in my life. He is the reason I'm having this fear in the first place – the fear of choosing.

Coming to Dauntless shouldn't have made me choose between people and values. The goal was simple; to do everything in my power to set things right. Everything has been meticulously placed for me, all I need to do is to execute it. There were no 'if's, only 'when's.

Until Eric came along.

He should've been the enemy, not the first person who appears when I'm in trouble. He wasn't supposed to care about me, nor want happiness for me. He was supposed to do what all villains do – remain in the black area – and yet he's managed to pull himself out of my firm resolution

A paradox. That's what he is to me.

Ever since he entered my life, I've fallen into a hole of confusion and doubt. I wish I could hate him for it, for taking my plans under my nose and ripping it into shreds. It should be his fault that I'm stuck where I am now, tossed into a roller coaster of emotions every day as I wonder that perhaps I shouldn't have said 'yes, I want to give us a shot'. Had I said no, we would have drifted away; both of us moving on with our lives. Perhaps if that were to happen, it wouldn't be hard for me to do the right thing.

Though I should hate him for all this, deep down, I hate myself. I hate myself for caring for him back, for wrapping myself around his finger without even realizing. I hate that I'm addicted to the man without his mask, every day yearning to be in his presence. I hate that I find solace in him, in his heart, laugh and smile. I hate that despite all he's done to others, I can't seem to find it enough to be repulsed and to let him go. I hate that I let him take the word happiness and tie it to himself, making home lose its value tenfold.

And worst of all, I hate that I can't hate him.

* * *

**A/N**

**I find her fear of lightning the funniest. The last fear was really difficult to write, which was why I took so long to update.**

**Sorry for the late update. Just started boarding for A levels and I can foresee my life getting hectic .-.**

**I'll update once a week on Fridays for now.**

**Thanks for your patience ':P**

On the side note, I think I'm finally figuring out what to italicise


	23. 23

With the bright blinding lights of the landscape theater making a return, I should feel elated that initiation is finally over.

As much as it would be theoretically nice to jump for joy and celebrate with the approaching leaders, it feels as if I haven't left the simulation at all – though the logical part will beg to differ.

Max comes to a stop a few feet away from me, his smile much wider than when he had congratulated the rest. A nagging voice tells me that his happiness is more likely towards not having to watch _and _evaluate any more simulations for a year than my completion. "Congratulations Anna." He starts; but I'm unable to relate to his delight. "You've successfully completed your final evaluation."

I do my best to smile back, especially since I have four of the most powerful pair of eyes on me. My attempt is futile. All I feel is numbness, dread, and exhaustion.

This time it's Eric who speaks up, ever emotionless and controlled. "The welcoming banquet will be at seven. We will announce the results then."

His deep baritone voice should've stirred something inside me, knock me out of my pessimistic daze that he doesn't know he's capable of. Instead, all I replay wryly over and over my head is 'welcoming banquet'.

Welcoming banquet. The words taste sour in my mind. This was what I wanted right? The first step to helping the faction system? This is what I relentlessly trained for these two years – to seal a place in Dauntless.

Yet in some absurd and remarkable way, I loathe it.

Max's eyes flicker to the young leader for a split second in subdued surprise. This is the first time Eric has spoken words other than the mandatory 'congratulations' like the rest of the leaders. I know of this because I've unwittingly adopted the habit of watching him whenever possible.

Eric pretends not to notice, maintaining his stiff rigid posture and forcing Max to start the round of handshakes among the leaders. The corner of my lips twitch limply as Max's hand is replaced by Kyle, and then Veronica. I've never quite grasp on the point of faking genuineness towards people I don't particularly care about. Therefore, looking at the two leaders I've never spoken to, I don't see the point of their appearance to this event – other than to serve as a reminder on who holds the authority around here.

Then it happens before I can process it. My hand flinches away from Eric's outstretched one. It was a brief moment of vulnerability – one that I doubt many would notice – but nothing escapes Eric's keen eyes when it comes to me.

The need to run away replaces self-pity and sorrow.

I force myself to blurt out anything before he does. "Thank you. The fear simulations got into my head." I force out a strangled chuckle. The simulation wasn't what got to me, not really. "I think I'm going to take some time to cool off."

If there's one thing I know Eric won't do, it would be breaking his mask in front of everyone. So, I turn away from them – him, making a beeline for the exit to place as much distance between us as I can.

I'm well aware of my pathetic attempt to scamper away and the horrible first impression I'm giving towards people I may have to work with in the future. But at this point in time, I can't seem to find a speck in me to care.

Four attempts to speak when he sees my urgent fleeing, face alarmed as his eyes flicker between the oblivious leaders and to me. "Anna wh-"

The door slams shut in his face.

* * *

Pain.

Pain consumes everything.

My fists are pounding the sandbag in front of me, the rocking from the impact unable to quench all I'm feeling. Fresh hot tears stream down my face as anguish and shame washes through me. My nose is blocked with snot and my breathing labored. Still, I can't find any will in me to wipe it away.

I deserve this. I deserve worst. Then screaming starts, pure streams of misery rips through my throat. My failure to my family and what I stood for crumbles to the ground from the choices I've made. There is a cold hand around my heart, squeezing maliciously in its hunger to feed on my despair.

I shouldn't have let go of John's hand, heavens know what that had meant. It was not worth it. Never would I have thought denying all I've stood for would've hurt so much, especially when I did it to survive. Screw what the leaders thought of my loyalty, I rather this than lose a part of myself.

"Anna."

My head whips up to the voice. And it was not worth _him_.

Just like that, I'm on to the source of conflict.

Eric eyes only manage to widen a fraction before he ducks where a fist would've landed on his face. I do not see the man who cares for me, only the man who's shaken my foundations.

Rage.

Pure rage.

It starts coursing through my veins as I begin sequence upon sequence of techniques mother has thought me.

Rib, rib, nose, eye, chest.

Temple, jaw, nose, nose, chest.

I rage upon how I did nothing during the fights, watching from the sidelines as initiates get beaten to a bloody pulp. I could've stop this. I have the ability to stop this. Why oh why did I think that just playing my part in not hurting others was enough? How selfish I was to find contentment in my actions so I could pretend that everything else was fine.

I rage upon my irrational feelings towards the merciless leader, how they have thwarted my goal and purpose. I should've ignored him, stick to my initial plan of avoiding him that I made on the night before the choosing ceremony. I should've let him wallow in the loss of the girl, never should've comforted him on the train. I should've fought more on the day he wanted to bring me to Amity, make it clear that I wanted nothing to do with him. I shouldn't have let him get me out of the bar the first time, then I wouldn't have met that repulsive friend of his. Axel had no right to stick his head into our own business.

My vision is still clouded with tears but I continue my sequences against the blurred figure, finding my movements the only thing that seems to be in order.

It does not matter to me whether or not my assaults make contact. My actions are clumsy and too disorientated with my emotions. My sequences remind me that not everything my parents have done has gone to waste, that at least they can be proud of me with this. I love them with all my heart, and it breaks me that my one chance to show them slipped away knowingly through my fingertips.

The moment I falter a step, wind brushes past me and I'm caged.

I'm transported back to the time where Eric had cornered me to the wall on the day he brought me to Amity. My arms are yanked to my side and clamped in place with a band of muscle and strength, rendering them useless. Instinct tells me to twist and bend over, throw my attacker off me, gain the upper hand. I want to do just that. Maybe even jerk my head backwards in hopes to break his nose as my skull makes contact.

But then there's soothing words in my ears. Calm nothings slowly but surely making its way into my lunacy. Soft hushes and murmurs are like a hand coming to smooth rumpled sheets, ever patient and gentle. My anger starts to simmer down as a new wave of emotion consumes me – exhaustion.

I'm exhausted of everything; of the never-ending internal conflict I'm having, of the lack of guidance on what to do, of having to constantly fight.

I just want to sleep. I just want to sleep and go back to where things were simpler. I just want to pretend that all of this is just some sick perpetual dream.

I just want my dogs beside me, always giving me the strength I need to carry through the day. I want their unconditional love and devotion, their unwavering loyalty.

I'm lost and alone, staring at the face of the world with no idea of who I am or what to do.

The dull ache of overexertion from my arms is an annoying thrum now that my mind has cleared. I sag against the man holding me, all spark and fury gone.

The numbness from earlier is returning, drying my tears and clearing my head from all thoughts.

Eric's arms loosen but don't fall away. He gently holds me against him, the breathing on my back slow and measured like he's controlling it for me. We lapse into a period of silence, my mind for once empty as I stare unseeingly at the bleak concrete wall in front of me.

The air around us isn't awkward – comforting, in fact – but I get the overwhelming need to say something. Apologize, preferably, now that the weight of my actions has made itself known. "I'm sorry." Eric never fought back, his only advancement meant to restrain and calm me. It was not right for me to take out my anger on him when it's me I'm disappointed at.

The word 'undeserving' floats around my head, a painful reminder that I'm unworthy of him. I do my best to push down the thoughts and swallow thickly.

His arms tighten around my waist for a fraction of a second before loosening. "It's alright."

No, it's not. I don't know what Eric sees in me. I am an unstable girl who rotates between panic attacks and meltdowns, surely I must be a burden and extremely emotionally draining to deal with.

My thoughts are cut short when he says something foreign to my ears. "Do you want to talk about it?"

This is the first time I'm hearing this question in a while – an invite to express my feelings. "I-I.."

More often than not, I keep my thoughts and worries to myself, being a social outcast and all. The only time I express my feelings is when my mom is home, then I would blurt out everything while she gives me her undivided attention.

It is weird, to have someone – other than mother – requesting to know how you're feeling inside. Even with Four, our topic of conversation revolves around Dauntless, my confusing relationship with Eric and theories on what Jeanine might be up to.

And this is Eric asking. The heartless leader who isn't heartless to me. Every day I spend with him makes me difficult to remember who he is, what he's done.

Just like now.

My hands move to his arms, trailing along his forearm idly. Even if I did want to talk about it, how do I explain anything to him without giving away my intentions? Standing in his embrace now, it pains me to keep things away from him. I don't like lying to him, and omitting details falls in the list too.

"No… not really." I say pathetically, the words forced and odd. I want to crawl under a rock and hide.

The man behind me only tightens his hold, like he's afraid I'll run. "But it was me who caused this."

Yes.

No.

Yes.

I picked Eric in the fear landscape out of necessity, knowing that the leaders interpret this fear as a test of faction loyalty. But I would only be fooling myself to believe I would've chosen differently if there was no one watching.

Now standing in the aftermath of my choices, I can't help the sprout of doubt that tells me that perhaps I've chosen the wrong path.

"Talk to me… please Anna." His voice sends shivers down my spine and I realize that I don't like it when he pleads. It's a tone is full of dread; prepared for the worst.

"I don't know how," _and I don't want to._ How do I tell him my doubts when I was the one who suggested we try? How do I tell him that I regret the choices I've made without hurting him? How do I tell him that I'm probably better off without him?

He sucks in a breath, forcing out words tensely. "That man… he wasn't your cousin, is he?"

A spark of confusion ignites in my head. Is this what Eric thought? Choosing between two people I have romantic feelings with? Then it dawns on me that Eric only saw the physical dilemma, not the mental one. "He is. John is my father's nephew. My relationship with him is strictly platonic." I reassure.

Though he doesn't voice it, his moment of pause tells me that he's still doubtful. "Then?" He inquires.

"It's what both of you represented." My attention goes to my fingers tracing his maze tattoo, finding comfort in his warmth and presence in such an uncomfortable conversation.

"And what did we represent?" Despite daring to ask the question, I have a sinking feeling that Eric dreads the answer.

"I can't say." I need air to breathe, to think and to let everything simmer down. I need to pick myself up and tell myself everything will be alright; that I'm still the same person as before. "I have to go."

Immediately, the band around me tightens. "No," Eric growls. "You're not leaving."

It takes me a moment to decipher the meaning behind his words. "I just need space."

"No." He repeats. "I'm right here for you. I'm _always _right here for you. Talk to me. I need to understand." He's pleading again, an underlying hint of desperation in his words.

I close my eyes briefly, feeling his words going straight into my soul. I know that if he keeps up with this, all my cards will be laid bare.

"I know, but-"

He cuts me off, twisting me around to face him. "No, can't you see? I can't. I hate this. I don't want this." His hands squeeze my shoulder to make a point. My guard files back up as my body tenses. "You're hurting. And I… don't want to see you hurt. I don't know what causing this, but I do know it has something to do with me. I can't stand another breakdown knowing that I can't do anything to help you fix it."

I can't meet his eyes, so I keep my gaze to our feet. "Please Anna. I want to help you. I want to be there for you. Just let me in." His warm hands go to my face, thumbs slowly lifting my chin till I'm looking right back at him. "Please."

Everything he's feeling is palpable. The worry, the confusion, the anguish, the sadness. He's afraid. He's afraid for me.

I could collapse into him right then and there. I'm not sure how, but I know that he'll make everything go away.

Then the words 'underserving' creeps back and I can't stand to look at him anymore. "I know. But this is something I need to figure out on my own. I'm sorry." I really am.

"Anna-" He cuts himself short, taking a deep breath before sighing.

"Okay." He finally releases his grip on me since he had me caged. "Okay." He steps away, the warmth that came with him disappearing into thin air. "I'll give you space."

My eyes snap back to his, utterly shocked. _Eric just gave in. _"Just…" He rubs a hand over his face wearily. "I just want what's best for you."

I smile and grab his hand, knowing full well how difficult it was for him to let it go. I try not to think about how he doesn't wrap his hand around mine, only letting it hang limply. "Thank you," I say sincerely.

Life reenters him for a fleeting moment. "Promise me you won't overthink it? Take it one step at a time?"

I squeeze his hand and pull away. "I promise."

Just like that, I left possibly the only person in Dauntless that _truly_ cares for me alone in the room.

* * *

"I'm sorry I slammed the door in your face."

The man beside me doesn't react, his eyes still trained on the endless cascade of water. "Initiates are usually shaken up after facing all their fears, it's alright." He attempts to make it sound flippant as possible. Well, as flippant as a man like Four could. "I take that you're better now?" He asks, successfully pushing my uncalled actions behind us.

I shrug. "Somewhat." As much as Eric claims to be unable to help me without knowing the problem, his advice is spot on each time. So much so that I wonder if there's a sprite that's been whispering to him the right things to say. "What do you want to talk about?"

His head snaps to me in bewilderment, head tilted and frowning. I blink at him weirdly until realization crosses his face that it was indeed him who requested a meet-up. "Ah right." Four turns back to the chasm, the gears working in his head practically visible.

After a long period of me twiddling my fingers, Four speaks up. "Jeanine was here today."

"And two lackeys too." I grumble childishly, irritation already sparking at the image of the wobbly-walking, attention-seeking, useless woman. Eric is mine, not hers. Whether I deserve him is beside the point.

Four quirks an eyebrow but doesn't pry. I squash back my juvenile feelings back into a box and will myself to get back on track. "She came to watch Cole?"

Four shakes his head. "Jeanine comes every year on initiation day. I believe she likes inspecting the armory and picking out promising candidates."

My brows furrow. "But she doesn't actually see our fear landscapes…?" Jeanine wasn't in the observation room during the final tests, she was located at the sidelines.

Four shoots me a look.

Right.

"Yeah, she can't." He says in spite of himself. "Both her 'lackeys'," the word comes out oddly off his tongue, "seem to have a relation with the two men."

The spark of anger returns in me. "Yeah, well, only one of them seems successful. What about it?" I'm not quite sure why Four would call for a meet-up to discuss the two parasites. So what if Jeanine is using other means to anchor their loyalty?

Four shrugs. "Just thought you should know."

I scrutinize him and inquire. "And that's all to it? Anything else?"

His eyes brighten up when a member passes by. "Actually yes. Perhaps we could celebrate your accomplishment tomorrow with a train ride? The city lights are pretty breathtaking." I do a double-take. Four isn't one to celebrate another's accomplishment, I know this much.

He's acting weird; eyes bright and everything. "Time?" There's already half the mind to pass up the offer.

"Eight."

I'm not quite sure what to say, ultimately confused by his actions. "Okay I guess…?"

Four body jolts to life as he pats me on the shoulder. "That's great!" I cringe. "I'll see you around-"

A shrill ring cuts off Four and he digs into his pocket, his features returning to the reserved and solidified state I'm used to. "Hello?"

I contemplate making a dash for it, weirded out by Four's sudden change in attitude towards me. I'm not quite sure if he's actually being serious about going for a train ride with me. Alone. It was as if he was possessed for a moment.

"Beg pardon?... Who?... Ah…" His face falls. "I'll go check it out." He ends the call on the phone I've never seen him carry around. How oblivious am I with my surroundings?

Four twists back to face me. "I'll see you tomorrow. Need to go check on the initiate's training room, one of the punching bags just broke." I should ask him whether he would be during the welcoming banquet tonight, but the accusing look he's shooting me indicates that I had something to do with the bag's condition.

I don't recall breaking the bag I was using.

* * *

My gaze is fixed on the rippling amber liquid in front of me.

No. I will _not _drink.

Ridley giggles loudly next to me, finding the slur of Jace's words the funniest thing in the world. His arm is around her shoulder, both of them doing their best to cuddle on a wooden bench tipsy.

The only reason why I'm here – other than because it's our welcoming banquet – is because I feel guilty for ignoring my acquittances these past few days, only choosing to eat out of their normal meal times. Skylar did come up to me and ask if I was alright on the second day of absence, however I reassured her that everything was fine.

Sitting here now, I can't help but start to regret my choice of sitting with them again.

"I'm not sure what he sees in her." Skylar snarls quietly beside me, sending daggers to the couple as they continue to laugh and giggle like kids with a microphone.

My mouth drops open and I turn to her. Now that I'm thinking about it, I realize that Skylar doesn't generally include Riley into her conversations with the two boys. A warm feeling of arrogance and pleasure runs through me knowing that Skylar prefers me over her; perhaps we have something in common after all.

Sensing that she's waiting for a reply, I tilt my head and lift a shoulder. "Doesn't really matter. As long as she keeps him happy."

Skylar visibly shudders and shakes her arms. "Bleh. I guess that's true."

I chuckle and stab a piece of steak. She acts as if she isn't in a relationship herself.

A scratchy loudspeaker pierces through the din. "Dauntless!"

I've still yet to get over how everyone quietens down so quick.

Max removes the loudspeaker from his mouth, satisfied now that he has everyone's attention. He's back on the tall mezzanine, just like on my first dinner here. Eric stands steely beside him, all evidence of his presumed outburst and vulnerability earlier gone. Had I not seen the different side of him, I would feel intimidated.

He surveys the crowd, eyes flitting over everyone. When it lands on me, he does a double-take like he had to be sure. His gaze doesn't move away after that. My hand unconsciously moves to cover my mouth, suddenly feeling embarrassed of chewing my food.

"After a grueling month of being physically and mentally pushed to the limits, fifteen people have proven their strength and have earned their place here in Dauntless." Cue deafening hoots and cheers from everyone around me. "We are the warrior faction, and we take pride in keeping our city safe both inside and outside. And now, this faction belongs to you."

Max's clears his throat and changes his tone to something akin to an old farmer. "Before we reveal the rankings and celebrate, I would like to inform all new members that job and apartment allocation will be done tomorrow at 10am." Then he clears his throat again.

My stomach is in knots. The rankings are about to be revealed and for once I'm nervous of the outcome. My fear landscape sure felt like it was way more than five minutes. And even though they say time ticks slower when in fear, my confidence in beating Cole has not improved one bit.

"The rankings will be flashed behind me." My staccato heartbeat is in my ears and my hands are starting to get clammy. What if Cole actually beats me? My fork clatters noisily onto the metal tray when I realize I'm clenching it too hard.

I must calm down. It will do me no good to have a panic attack over something that may or may not be true. Deep breaths, deep breaths, everything will be alright.

Eric. Eric would calm me. I jerk my head from my food, searching to find the man. But just like earlier, he hasn't moved or changed his posture. Panic starts rising in me again. I need Eric _here _with me, not the emotionless Dauntless leader on the overlook. I can't-

Everything is happening too soon.

"Now, for the moment we've all been waiting for… the rankings!"

A few things happen in the span of three short seconds. My eyes close. The fear of failing forcing me to remain in the unknown. Every single noise in the dining hall ceases, like we're all in a movie that has been paused. Then there's cheering drowning out gasps, a spark in the far corner and spreading like wildfire.

There's loud squealing in my ear, something I'm not quite familiar with in such a deafening level. It's Skylar's. A hand roughly grabs my shoulder and starts shaking me like a rag doll. "OH MY GOSH Anna!" She squeals. I wince.

At least some of us are satisfied.

The cheering only seems to be getting louder now. "You-" Her voice is muted by a squeak from me. I'm pulled out from the bench and the platform where my ass sat is replaced by air and hands. My eyes fly open in horror as the action of being carried in the air registers. The idea of being carried around over people's heads and having their hands touching my body does not settle well. Please put me down.

Skylar is lifted up beside me. Unlike me who's probably scowling, she's giggling and hooting; the perfect Dauntless reaction. "Look, look!" She continues to squeal, pointing towards the general direction of the leaderboard.

I suppose that sooner or later I'll have to face reality, so I begrudgingly follow her orders.

And there, sitting on the number one fat spot, is Anna Laker.

At first, I couldn't quite believe it, so I read the leaderboard from bottom up, trying to figure out if they accidentally duplicated my name or something. Riley sits on the 13th spot, Zack on 7th, Skylar on 5th, Jace on 3rd and Cole on 2nd.

Huh.

My body bounces oddly among the sea of hands, random pressure added to my back before it disappears and is replaced by another. I should be wondering about the logistics of how they are carrying the ex-initiates over the wide tables and their end goal of this celebration method, however my brain only sees the number one.

I've beaten everyone.

The realization slowly creeps into my veins as my brain tries to piece together everything.

I've beaten everyone.

The corners of my lips twitch as I now understand Skylar's excitement for me.

I actually did it. I'm first.

_First._

Bubbles of hysteria blossoms from my chest as I realize that initiation is no more, dorms is no more, Riley is no more and my dogs can come home.

Suddenly, I am no longer weirded out by everyone touching me. Every muscle relaxes and I start giggling like a kindergarten child who's playing hide-and-seek. My hands grow cold with excitement and tears well up in my eyes. It's over. It's all, finally, over.

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.

My hands are cupped over my mouth and nose, trembling and so, so relieved. It's back to school all over again, when results day arrived and I was among the top of the year. But this time, I _am_ at the top.

Suddenly, I'm pulled down from the sea of people and land onto someone. Eric has his arms around me, the grin on his lips pulled wide to the ears. "You did it." There's nothing but pure happiness in his voice.

I bubble with laughter and throw my arms around his neck, hugging him close. Everything that transpired earlier overtaken by happiness. "I did it." I parrot. "I did it. I did it."

And in that moment of celebration, the door of hope reopened.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm mildly aware of how quickly Anna and Eric moved on after their 'fight'. But I think it's a good thing for people to move on quickly. I hope their attitudes towards each other in the beginning and the end wasn't too insane and practically impossible. (It felt possible for me when I imagined Eric's POV) But do feel free to leave a note on your thoughts about it.**

So A-levels is much more draining than I thought :D

I have a week of holidays. Hoping to write as much as possible so I can upload on time.


	24. 24

"Next."

I sheepishly move to the counter. I should've been the first in line, since the order of choosing apartments and jobs goes by rankings. But I've been in some sort of daze since last night, unaware of my surroundings and what others were doing. It's like I've been drunk, except that there wasn't a drop of alcohol in me.

Cutting the line of my numbered cohort and waiting while Skylar finishes up on her arrangements, I had time to mull over my extremely rare tardiness. I can only pray now that the best and largest apartments weren't already taken and that the leadership spot haven't been chosen – a futile attempt, really.

Though I don't normally expect things of people – for expectations often lead to disappointment – I send a silent prayer that the large apartments haven't been taken up.

_Not that it matters if you move in with Eric. _A voice in the back of my head says.

I squash that thought immediately.

The middle age lady looks up to me expectantly, bordering impatient by how she has to deal with this all morning. "Name."

I can't help but stare at her dumbly for a second, my response flying out of the window. "Hi, urm… I'm Anna-"

Recognition fills her features and she cuts me off. "Ah yes." Oddly enough, she smiles. "I've heard great things about you, Anna." In spite of herself, her smile falters when she glances to the clock on her left.

I rub the back of my neck and chuckle nervously. "Sorry." There's no excuse for me to give, and even if I did, it shouldn't excuse my tardiness.

"No worries dear." Her smile is back on. "Max has informed me to send you to his office right away. Just take the lift to the fourth floor. There should be a receptionist there to guide you."

The head of Dauntless wants to see me?

Once again, I'm back to staring at her dumbly. Once a fraction of my brain seems to work again, I voice my concern. "But er… the apart-"

She sweetly cuts me off again. "Don't worry about it. Just go meet him."

I blink. Though I should stay back and argue that apartment allocation means a lot to me, I'm acutely aware of how late I already am. Hence, I begrudgingly give her a thanks and stumble to the lifts, my mind detached from my body.

My fist hovers millimeters away from Max's office door, stomach in knots as I have no idea why he wants to meet me. Did he see something unusual during the fear landscape? Or did he overhear the conversation I had with Four? Is the reason why I'm not getting a choice in picking my apartment and job because he plans to kick me out?

The lady earlier said that she heard 'great things' about me, but I won't be surprised if Max lied to eliminate suspicion.

The muffled voices that are coming through the door are the main reason for my hesitation. I can't make out the individual voices or their words but I do know that there is a definitely a female inside.

Right when I've gathered enough courage, the door swings open.

Standing between the room and me is Cole. The grin he had immediately fell flat when he saw me, twisting into a disgusting sneer that he hadn't quite mastered from Eric. "Banjo strummer." Is what he deems suffice as a greeting as he forcefully pushes past me before I even have the chance to move away.

"Anna!" Max's voice calls gleefully from the room. "Just in time."

I plaster on my best attempt of a smile and ignore Cole's actions, walking into the room. "Hi."

I was right, there is a female in the room. Perched like a peacock on his desk is Jeanine, puckered smile and all. As much as I don't even want to know why she's here, I'm afraid I'm going to find out anyways.

"Take a seat." He gestures at the chair in front of him. I smile at the woman just out of courtesy before doing as told. The chair beneath me is hard and uncomfortable. Though Max doesn't seem to have ill intentions now, I can't help but think otherwise with such a piece of furniture like this.

His office is relatively messy. Papers are sticking out from all angles on the cabinets and files are stacked disorderly on top of each other, practically on the verge of tipping over. The only thing that's neat is his desk, which I suspect is only because he has guests over – not that it actually makes much of a difference. The computer running next to him seems relatively new, the technology outcompeting what Johanna has by years.

"This is Anna Laker. Top of this year's initiate class, but I bet you knew that already." He boasts, straightening his spine like he personally helped me achieve the rank. Then he turns to me, "Anna, this is Jeanine Matthews. She's the leader of Erudite."

I squelch the awkwardness of my actions and extend a hand. "Nice to meet you." All I can do is pray that I sound genuine.

She smiles back and clasps my hand in hers, giving a light – almost bordering half-hearted – shake. "John's daughter, is it? It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm glad you're adapting well here in Dauntless, in fact, more than well." There's this sly undertone to her words that I don't quite like.

I fish out one of the most rehearsed responses I have. "My mom helped me with that. I kinda told her I was planning to transfer here; hence, she gave me a headstart in training." Forcefully relaxing my shoulders, I shrug to feign nonchalance.

"Ah, but having a headstart in physical training only means you'll do well in stage one. Yet, you've gone against all odds and managed to do well in the rest of the stages as well." As each word falls from her mouth, my fingers start turning numb. She couldn't be implying what I think she's implying. Surely I've covered all my tracks of any possibility of being divergent… right?

"I suppose you could've gotten your gifts from your father, he's quite a remarkable one. But we're not here to discuss your results – of which we are immensely proud of. IT is only natural for me to doubt that she was pleased to hear that I've beaten Cole and have possibly ruin her plans. I don't think she was 'immensely' proud at all. "Instead," she lightly clasps her hands together, "we would like to discuss something else." Her eyes flit over to Max who's already bubbling with excitement despite his sobered demeanor.

He weaves his fingers together and rests his elbows onto his desk, leaning forward. "We are hoping… that you would consider Dauntless Leadership." He says slowly, letting the words sink in one by one.

I blink.

Not quite what I expected.

"Of course, you won't be one immediately, but you'll be in training for six months. During that period, you'll learn the ropes of running Dauntless and understand what we as leaders do."

When I don't immediately reply, he continues on. "You've shown great ability in problem solving and critical thinking. We need someone who can quickly access situations and make split second decisions," _The rats. _"do their best to protect the faction and loved ones," _Shooting myself. _"and has unwavering loyalty." _Choosing Eric. _"All of which, you fit perfectly."

Just like that, my gaze grows hard and I pull my gaze down to my hands. _It worked in my favor, didn't it? _I think wryly.

"So, would you like to take it up?" He finally asks.

Can't say no, because this is what I've been working for. "Sure." My head lifts and a smile meets his gaze, all irritation shoved deep inside.

He claps his hands together while Jeanine smiles wide in possibly artificial, pleasure. "Wonderful. You and Cole will both be in training. He has decided to shadow Jessica, who'll be stepping down at the end of this six months." An Erudite move. Shadowing the leader who's leaving is the perfect way to replace her and her job.

"The person you shadow will be the main person who will show you the ropes. This includes visitations, physical training and paperwork. At the end of the six months, we will have to only pick one of you. But worry not, we'll give you your preferred job if you aren't chosen.

Now, Eric has volunteered to oversee you, but the decision is still up to you. Would you prefer Veronica perhaps? I know Eric can be… pretty intense at times."

Another speechless moment.

Eric has _volunteered _to train me? It doesn't take a genius to know that leaders don't often – if at all – volunteer to carry an extra burden on top of their work. An obvious choice would be to shadow Veronica instead, she does seem a tad bit friendlier and might have more patience in helping me than Eric. I'm no fool to think that Eric's tolerance for me will last a lifetime, especially if things between us go downhill.

Yet, I know that if I want in on their plans, I would have to choose either Max or Eric. Judging from my brief time in Eric's apartment, I can only hope his office is nothing like the man-cave that is Max's. I don't think I can stand being in this office and its gunk every day for six months.

So I say, "Eric's fine."

Both of their responses are comical, though fleeting. Their eyebrows fly to their forehead in shock before Jeanine schools her features back into a practiced smile while Max tilts his head like he didn't hear right.

"Eric?" He splutters, blinking rapidly like I just willingly signed up to die.

I purse my lips together and nod. Perhaps he's a horrible co-worker and I've just made the worst choice in my life. Jeanine shoots Max a warning look and he immediately collects himself, fingers flying over his keyboard. He clears his throat. "Very well. You'll start next week. Everyone's been given a week off to celebrate and settle into their new lives, so your training will only start next Monday." _A week off? _My insides bubble with excitement as I think about all the things I can do during that time; mainly, chase tag.

"I'll be heading out now." Jeanine says, gathering her little belongings in front of her. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Anna. I look forward to working with you." She has that knowing tone in her voice, one that send shudders despite supposedly now being on the same side as her.

I can only manage a smile and a pathetic 'it's a pleasure to meet you too' before she clicks her way out of the door.

Once the reassuring tick of the door vibrates around the room, Max begins to fill the silence. "Your apartment number is…" He starts distractedly, his attention focused on the screen in front of him. I wring my hands together, unsure if I should voice out my concerns about my living space. I'm afraid that he's looking through the list of remaining apartments now, and judging by how long it's been since ten, I doubt there's any good ones left. But there's honestly no reason to worry. "108… Yes," his eyes returns to me, "108. Just go back down to Jane for the key code. She'll tell you where it's located." Jane should be the lady downstairs. "You may go now, I look forward to you working with us."

I smile in appreciation and rise. "Thanks." Yet right when I've straightened my back, a thought dances in my head and I freeze. Now would be the perfect time. "Actually…"

Max tilts his head up and looks at me expectantly. My breathing quickens as I realize how stupid but necessary my request is. There's no going back now. "I was wondering… if I could… ask you something."

* * *

"Are we _really _here to celebrate?" I ask the man in front of me warily. If Four turned out to have an alter ego of a drunk party junkie, I might have to rethink my friendship with him.

We stand in the train station alone with only two small lights illuminating the space. As much as I didn't want to come, preferring to spend more time getting my apartment in order, I couldn't exactly cancel on him. I did say yes after all. Whether or not its half-hearted is besides the point. Plus, there's no ways for me to communicate to cancel.

The train is due to arrive any time now.

He squints at me, hurt, before turning back to the now vibrating tracks. "Later." I suppress my irritation and glare at the upcoming train. "So… what job did you pick?"

"I didn't quite get a choice in leadership. I was called in by Max." The mention of Jeanine being present was omitted, mainly because of how I'm constantly reminded of the cameras being everywhere. "But I was planning to pick that anyways." I shrug.

Only when we land onto the train does he continue. "Were there other candidates there as well?" He asks, taking a seat across me. "Did he give you a general form to fill in?"

My eyebrows knit together; why does the process matter? "No…? I mean, Cole went before me. But there wasn't like a gathering or any sort of form. He kinda just flat out asked me and who I would like to shadow during the six months of probationary." I wave my hands to make a point. "Why does it matter?"

Now it's his turn to knit his brows. The creases that form only makes him look years older. "Huh." He looks to the ground, deep in thought. "They didn't do that during my time. Are you and Cole the only ones picked? Was there an interview of sorts?"

The irritation from earlier reignites in me. I don't quite appreciate his vagueness in topics that obviously involve me. That being said, I do appreciate that he's already sniffing out something fishy. However, it would be an enormous help if he explained his suspicions. "As far as I know of, it's just me and Cole. And no, there was no interview." Deep breaths. "Why does it matter?" I ask calmly. Don't need to snap at someone when you've no means of getting help if things escalate.

He ignores my question once again. "Interesting." Four scratches his chin, completely oblivious of the twitching of my eye nor the clenching of fists. "During my time-" By now, my patience is wearing thin. I don't want to know your 'during my time' grandfather stories. "-Max would interview each candidate and ask them of their vision for Dauntless. Then he would – supposedly –" his tone turns sour, "picked the best suited one as the new 'leader-in-training."

So… times have changed and now they hand pick their candidates, what's so sketchy about that? Shouldn't Four be happy that they considered me despite already having Cole? But now that I'm listening to his faraway droning, I'm suddenly wondering why _did _they even bother to pick me.

Was it all for a show? To show that they aren't being biased towards Cole by having me give it a shot too? Would they have done the same if Cole came first instead? Something inside tells me that the answer is no. Does that mean that in whatever I do during these six months wouldn't matter at all? After all, the decision has already been made.

I suck in a breath at this revelation. "Then why?"

Four's eyes snap to mine as if he was thinking the exact same thing. "Perhaps to portray an image of equality." He states. Even though he didn't mean it, the words were still a cut to my hopes. There's a hand around my heart, clenching and squeezing out all my glee and celebration. Maybe I should just go to Max and tell him I rather have another job. Ambassador maybe.

"But…" Just like that, light reenters my mind. Four rises onto his feet, pacing down the pathway completely unfazed by the fact that we are on a moving train. He's deep in thought, trying to dissect the reasoning behind what's happened – or figuring out how best to phrase a soul-crushing blow.

"…I think that another reason why they picked you is because-" He pauses, shaking his head before going back to pacing. With absolutely nothing to do, I twiddle my thumbs like a child. My mind is completely void of anything. Perhaps I should pry. Yet should I do so, I may lose that glimmer of hope that I've desperately latched onto.

A part of me wants to go home to my new apartment, the one I've spent the entire afternoon sweeping, mopping and scrubbing just to make it clean enough to meet my high standards. Though I would like to suggest for apartments to be thoroughly cleaned before the new members move in, I can also foresee the leaders rolling their eyes at the waste of manpower.

I want to forget the possibly true intentions of my apprenticeship and pretend that I have an equal chance of snagging the leadership spot as Cole. I want to forget about this train ride, where all my underlying doubts have been fished out and expanded. I really don't need this right now.

Amidst of thinking about my new bed and clean floors, I suddenly realize something. "You seem to know a lot about the leadership process. Did you apply?"

Four stops in his tracks, his back towards me. Instead of a simple yes or no, he answers, "I was invited."

"But Eric took your spot? Because of the strings Jeanine pulled?" At this, his shoulders slump in perceived… happiness? Relief? I can't help but wonder if there's more to this than what I just mentioned.

"Yeah. So I landed a job at the control room. Speaking of which, here's the real reason why I asked to meet up…" He turns around and strides back to me. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he whipped out a bottle of alcohol from God knows where, and dully exclaim 'congratulations'.

Four slides back down across me and folds his legs together. "I've gotten some intel from an extremely _reliable _source." He states almost smugly – so smug that contends with Max's – giving me the impression that this 'reliable' source could most possibly be himself.

Of course Four only talks to me about work.

"Who is this, 'reliable' source?" I question.

All I get in reply is, 'the less you know, the better. Trust me.'

I have half the mind to whack him in the face. We are working _together_, are we not?

"And I've found out what Jeanine is up to," he folds his hands together and leans forward, "the project is still under development, the last time I checked. This gives us plenty of time to figure out what to do. Maybe even half if we're in luck."

My hand flies to cover my twitching eye. Why does he always beat around the bush like that?

"Simulations." He says. I almost roll my eyes. Erudite is known for their simulation serums. The temptation to mock him is strong, especially with how irritating he is today. "A serum that could control people."

Now _that_ catches my attention.

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine the fear landscape," there's this glimmer in his eye, "but instead of experiencing your fears, you experience what-"

"They want you to see." We finish together.

A light flickers in my head and a gasp falls from my lips. "They can create a brainless army."

"Yes."

It's all starting to make sense now. "An army for what though?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Abnegation. They want a new government."

I can't help but doubt him. "But Abnegation only do what's right for the city. Why change that?"

"What's right in some eyes, might not be right in others. Abnegation does do what's right for the city. But it definitely isn't always the best. I can assume that Erudite have very different views on this matter." Suddenly I'm recalling the reports Erudite have been making on Abnegation, how dad himself couldn't understand the logic behind them. "And since they don't get a say in this at all, it makes sense why they want to eradicate the current government."

The way he said 'eradicate' made me see death and pain. My heart drops. They wouldn't… would they? "You don't think both Dauntless and Erudite would… slaughter them… would you?"

His eyes grow hard. "If you had the brains, the technology and the power of the city, who would go against you if you did?"

I almost said 'Candor would', but the faction of justice is only as powerful as the Dauntless who reinforce the laws, otherwise they are just a dog with all bark and no bite.

"Are there plans made then?" I ask, already dreading the answer.

"Tentatively, no. They are currently focusing on the serum development and finding flaws in the government to publish. What they are currently doing isn't obvious, but it's there." What he shared it isn't much, but it's still a relief.

"Progress is slow but improving. Programming scenes that will adapt according to each individual _manually_is difficult at the moment. They are also testing the serums on animals, but it's only a matter of time before they move onto human subjects."

"So, what should we do now?" I ask.

He sighs heavily and slumps onto the wall. "Right now, I'm not sure. I do have a plan, but I haven't put much thought into it."

"And what would that be…?" We could plan this out right now.

"Sneaking into Erudite and hacking the program." He states simply. This is obviously easier said than done. However, with my newfound job, the idea might not be too far-fetched… "It's workable, if you can develop a program that would ensure it can't be detected." If that's possible to begin with.

At my reassurance, he straightens up. "It'll take time for sure." There's this glimmer in his eyes again. It's clear that this is his passion. "I mean, I have something similar, but if I could develop it a bit more… yes… it is workable…"

"Could it be something… seamless? Something that doesn't involve… uh… manual… setup?" I cringe at my choice of words, cursing for myself sleeping in most of my computer classes in school. I would probably need them now more than ever with my new job.

Four frowns for a moment before he successfully deciphers my child's language. "Wireless? Well, I haven't quite done anything like it. But how are we going to get in Erudite in the first place?"

I think I've just exposed myself. "I'm shadowing a leader during the six-month period, I'm sure I'll visit Erudite eventually." Is my vague answer.

"Oh, yes. That works for sure. Especially if you could get Jeanine to trust you, then-" he suddenly pauses, the implication of my words sinking in. Then he narrows his eyes accusingly. "Who are you shadowing exactly? Because not all the leaders make their rounds around the factions. In fact, I can only name two off the top of my head…"

Silence.

Maybe I should've lied and said Max, but it's a tad bit too late now.

He sighs heavily as slowly runs a palm down his face. "You're shadowing _him_." Contempt laces his voice as his spits the word.

'He volunteered to do it!' Is the childish excuse I most blurted. Instead, I defend, "I didn't pick him because of selfish reasons." Well, at least, in that moment in time. Now is a different story.

His blue eyes only flit to his forehead disbelievingly. Heat starts rising in me. "Max would've been a better choice. He's a reasonable guy. Pray tell why didn't you go under him instead. You must have a awfully good reason to pick Eric. I'm sure Max would teach you far more than Eric ever could. Perhaps all but the physical training aspect really, since both of you-"

Something snaps. "There's nothing wrong with Eric!" Moments like these are when I can fully understand why Eric would like to punch his pretty face. Give him a good whack on his temple and maybe a knee to his groin. His nerve, fucking hell… "What do you think he is? A-A rapist? That all he sees in me is sex? What? That just because he's wormed his way into leadership means he still a spoon-fed child?" My head is starting to pound and my feet itch to stand.

His eyes grow hard at my outburst. "And you think he won't do that? Take advantage because he's your superior and has responsibility over you? You think you know-"

I can't take another word that's coming out of his mouth. "I don't 'think', I _know _him far better than you! Knowing him since 'initiation'," I air quote him mockingly, "doesn't mean shit. You don't even know how he is inside, so how dare you accuse him of this!"

"And how do you know that what you see is true? I'll say it once, and I'll say it again: People would do anything, _anything, _to make the ones they want, stay." He growls.

Sarcasm laces my voice. "Oh, and who made you a love guru? Last I heard, you couldn't even keep a girl after one date. Who's you to advise me on this?" Maybe I shouldn't have given him such a low blow, but in this moment, caring about his feelings after what he's just said is furthest from my mind.

His next words border solemn, almost throwing me off completely. "Sometimes, you learn it through others."

The way he said it… there's definitely more to it.

Yet at this moment, I can't find a speck in me to calm down and sympathize. I am fuming and still want to punch him. However, I recognize the familiar sound of the screeching of the brakes and the white lights. "We're here."

I hop off the train without hesitation, never looking back. So much for seeing the city lights.

That nerve of a man. He has no right to speak about Eric like that. Is Eric a rapist? No. Is he a useless leader? No. So, who the hell does he think he is to say such things. If Four has such an issue with Eric, he should keep it to himself. He _knows _that shadowing Eric is essential. Eric practically works with Jeanine. Heck, doesn't he go to Erudite once a week?

As the lift opens to my apartment's floor, some of my anger washes away as my newly cleaned flat draws closer. It isn't a ridiculously huge one like Eric's, but it's definitely big enough to, hopefully, house three large dogs. I could see it already, Hawk and Sabre sleeping on the new sofas while Gunner and I take the queen-sized bed. Everything would be so convenient now that everything is on the same floor, the food, toys, water bowls, baths; everything would be so, so easy.

A smug smile passes over my lips as the remaining of my anger diminishes. Mark was complaining about his apartment over dinner. Something about not even having a proper bedroom and everything being in 'one-place'. Skylar's room was far better, mainly because she and Zack decided to move in together. They were allocated an apartment much similar to mine, if not slightly bigger. Riley moved in with Jace, for reasons so obvious I had to clamp my mouth down the moment Jace announced their arrangement.

The rectangle machine beeps in acceptance before me and a buzzing occurs to unlock the door. I kick off my shoes once inside, placing them on the newly purchased shoe rack. Ah yes, a place to call home.

Tonight, will be the first night – minus the day I woke in Eric's bed – where I would be sleeping in something other than that pathetic excuse of a bed in the dorms. And tonight, will also be the first night where I won't be woken up by the nightmares of others. Just me, my bed, and all the time in the world.

Yet of course, there's always something that would ruin my plans.

There's a ding from above and a knock on my door.

At first, I thought it was Four coming to continue to argument, or better yet: apologize. Then I realize that I never did tell Four where my apartment is, so it couldn't actually be him. The analog clock at the kitchen reads 10:23pm, a bit late if Skylar had something up her sleeve. A horribly planned surprise party?

"Anna?"

The voice is muffled through the door but I can recognize it anywhere.

I hastily push the handle down and pull the door open. "Eric?" My heart flutters; he's here.

"Hey."

"Hi." Even after a month, the sight of him still takes my breath away. He's dressed in a simple black tee and matching sweatpants, standing almost awkwardly in the hallway. There's a white paper bag in his hand.

A gift?

His eyes are trailing down my form, starting painstakingly slow with my face. "What are you doing here?" I'm not quite sure what's there to see, mainly because I'm not anything like the drop-dead gorgeous women Dauntless doesn't seem to lack. In fact, I'm not sure what he sees in me at all.

"Hmm?" His gaze never strays from me, taking in my maroon jacket, tank top and leggings. A warm feeling starts blossoming in my chest, but waves embarrassment overrides it.

I clear my throat, shifting to pull the door wider. "Eric."

He knocks out of his daze immediately, slate blue snapping to mine. "Yes?"

"What are you doing here?"

He confusingly blinks twice before tilting his head. "I err…" Then he sees the paper bag and recognition fills his face. "Can I come in?"

The unexpectant feeling of self-consciousness grips me. Regret of not refurnishing my room earlier today mockingly tugs at me. "Urm..."

"Or we could go to mine's-"

"Oh! No, no, it's fine. You're here already, it's fine." I blabber out.

Eric squints down at me. "You sure? I mean, it's just right here." He points to the door behind him.

_What…? _

The fact that I never had the problem of locating my room did not faze me at all today. Now, I understand why. It's because I've been here before.

I must have been stupidly standing there longer than normal, for the next thing I knew, Eric's holding his own door open and has this amused look on his face. "You forgot, didn't you?"

My face scrunches and I wave a hand loosely in the air. "What? Of course not. I knew that your room was across mine. 105 right? See?"

_Antarctica._

Antarctica is the coldest, driest, windiest, and iciest continent on Earth. It is the only continent with no permanent residents. Few living things can survive the cold, dry climate of Antarctica's interior. Those mainly being a few lichens, mosses, and insects.

Unfortunately, I am obviously not among those who can survive.

How the heck did Eric manage to cramp Antarctica in here?

I am exaggerating, of course. There are no lichens, mosses, insects, penguins or seals that have taken residence in Eric's apartment. Neither is there falling snow or strong winds blowing around. However, it sure the hell feels like it.

Traumatic memories of waking up freezing on my first morning in Dauntless flashes through me. I begrudgingly pull off my shoes and wrap my arms around my torso, suddenly feeling hostile towards the man walk in front of me.

The million-dollar question tumbles out of me. "Why is your apartment so cold? It's not even autumn yet."

"Is it?" He pauses mid step, turning around to head to the temperature controls. I almost wanted to mention it's still summer, but the involuntary clatter of my teeth responds for me. "Right." He presses some buttons on the control mounted on the wall before heading to the bedroom. "Wait here."

By the time he returns, my arms are around my legs and I'm blankly staring at the black television screen. It is extremely vital to purchase warmer clothes – preferably anything that isn't leggings.

"Here." He holds out a navy fleece jacket. "How _did _you survive in Amity?"

I pluck it from his hands and place it over my torso. "Well." I begin and pause, speechless. "Well." Now I'm loosely cocooned in the large jacket. "There was heating in the house, I wore many layers of clothing and I had my dogs."

Eric moves to take a seat adjacent to me. "Ah yes. Speaking of which, the leaders have agreed to let your dogs take residence in Dauntless."

I jolt upright in shock. "Really?" I didn't think they would've come to a decision this soon. I'm giddy with excitement. The dogs, they can come over. It's practically a dream come true; and I can't wait. I could kiss Eric right now, he has no idea what this means for me. But I must suppress the excitement, mainly because I don't want to get my hopes to high in case of extra conditions.

"Yes. As long as they don't cause a 'ruckus'," he air-quotes weirdly. "Jessica is worried that the dogs might scare some of the members, Dauntless-born mostly, since all other factions except Abnegation have dogs as pets." Of course having a dog is considered selfish. "Also, though I know that you would really want them here, Dauntless isn't really considered safe for these dogs. I'm referring to the lack of barriers at the stairs."

"It should be fine." As long as anyone isn't out to purposely injure them. "I'll have them on short leashes on the first few days, until their curiosity dies down and they lose the incline to tip over the ledge." Goodness, I sound like a child telling her parents that I promise to take care of a new pet.

"Max did say that you had everything well thought out," Well, most things; not that I'll correct it. "It's not often to see him so impressed." Convincing Max took a while, I had to rake my brain for all the skills my dogs had – minus the violence – and show him how they would do more harm than good.

"I'm glad he was. When can I move them over?" Now that I have the green light, there's so much arrangements to make. John does roughly know when initiation ends for me, but I did not contact him on a specific date on when I'll come over.

Eric shrugs. "Whenever you like. Just inform Veronica, or me, if you can't find her. She's in charge of transport and shipments in the faction, so she'll assign a vehicle to pick up the dogs."

For once, something is finally falling smoothly in place. Just in a matter of days, my three fur babies will be here with me.

"And this," he reaches down to lift the paper bag onto the coffee table, "is your new means of communication." In his hand is a while rectangular box.

A phone.

He got me a _phone_.

"Anyone who's in leadership has a slightly different phone from the members, mainly because these ones allow inter-faction communication." Okay, so maybe he didn't exactly buy me a phone as a gift. The rectangular white box is settled in my hand. How did he even get ahold of one that's maroon specifically?

I can't do anything except stare in shock. The box is smooth and luxurious, probably the most expensive thing I currently own.

"The contacts of the key people are already in your phone, including Johanna's and your mom's. You could try calling them tomorrow to make the arrangements for the dogs."

"Wow." Everything is becoming too much, in a good way. "Thank you." I open the box and gently pry the phone out. It's an extremely sleek design, one so thin that I'm certain I could snap it in two.

"I figured you'll need a way to contact them, so I tried to hand it over to you by tonight." My heart practically melts with his words. This man; he's amazing.

"You really didn't have to."

He huffs. "I did. No reason to prolong the arrival of the dogs."

It's remarkable that he still wants the dogs to be here. After all, his first and only encounter with them was when they were seconds away from biting his head off.

"Why?" I ask.

"Why what?"

I twist the phone in my hands, fidgeting slightly as I figure out how to phrase my question. "I mean, why are you so supportive of bringing them here?" Not quite what I wanted to ask.

"Well," he stretches and slumps lazily onto the couch. "You obviously need them. And they obviously need you. I think it would be good to speed up the process, would it not?" He quirks an eyebrow.

I'm not sure if there's a hidden reason for his actions. Such reasoning makes his effort seem rather… troublesome. "I guess…"

We slip into a comfortable silence. There are a million questions running through my mind; so many things I want to know. Why _did_he insist to mentor me? Surely there must be something else other than possessiveness? Did he have a hand in my room allocation? Why isn't he bringing up the day I caught him on the fence? Why isn't he bringing up the dog's behavior towards him? The way they cornered him should've definitely made him suspicious.

Eric. He's an intriguing man, especially when it comes to me.

At this point of time I can't seem to figure him out. Yet apparently, I'm possibly the only one who has.

* * *

**A/N**

**6.5k+ words. Wowsie. Definitely took me a while to write this.**

**What do you guys think? Do you guys agree with Four in terms of Eric bending his character around Anna?**


	25. 25

Skylar chokes on her juice, coughing loudly in the half-empty diner. "Wait, you have dogs? Since when?"

I suppose it is my fault that I never did mentioned my three pups. "They're in Amity, I got them a bit over two years ago."

"And they're coming here in two days." She perks up. "What are they like? Are they cute? What color are they?"

I wasn't expecting that kind of response. "You like dogs?" I ask, completely dumbfounded.

"Of course I do! Just because Dauntless prohibits them for safety reasons – of which you owe me an explanation on how you manage to get approval in the first place – doesn't mean that I don't hear stories about them in school. I love all dogs! Well… All except the one in the aptitude test, that one was nasty."

I wince. My dogs look very similar to that.

"Plus, I met one once. Some Erudite girl brought it for show-and-tell one day. It was super fluffy. Like a cloud!" She grins, using her hands to form a large oval. "She let me pet it. One of the nicest Noses I've ever met." Amazing how Skylar has managed to compliment and insult a person in the same sentence. "So," she excitedly wiggles forward, "tell me about them."

Picking back up my steak knife, I proceed to slice up another piece of lamb. There're so many places to start. "Well, there's three of them:-" At the mention of the number, she sighs wistfully. "-Gunner, Sabre, and Hawk."

"Badass. How _did_you come up with such names in Amity? I personally thought it would be something cute like Ginger or Brownie."

I chuckle. "Well, they are pretty badass. You'll understand once you see them."

"What do they look like?"

"They're a large breed. So, they come up to… here." I make a visual by placing my hand three quarters on the table leg. "They look mostly similar, just varying in their colors and build." My fingers curl around a lock of my hair and I pull it in front of my face. "Gunner is this blackish brown. He has like a thin black layer over his brown coat, it's a bit hard to describe it really. Sabre is silver and black." I point at the middle section. "Very pretty color. It's almost like he's gleaming, and he has these black shadings that accentuate his features." My fingers travel down to the ends of the lock. "And then there's Hawk. He's light brown with a darkened muzzle. His coat is common for his breed, but he does look the friendliest among the three."

Skylar is completely mesmerized, staring at my hair in a new light. "And their personalities?"

I could practically spend all afternoon blabbering about my babies. She has no idea what she just signed up for. "So there's Gunner, he's the biggest and probably the scariest looking. But don't let him fool you, he's actually the biggest baby among the three. My cute fluffy dog. He just loves, and I mean really _loves,_cuddling. And also, he's really-"

Suddenly, there's a shrill ringing – a noise I'm not at all familiar with. It dies down after a second before starting up again. I stare at the maroon phone in front of me. Work only starts on Monday. So, I can't imagine anyone that knows my number, would be calling.

Skylar apparently has more knowledge on who's calling me, because she gasps in even more excitement and shock. "How long have you hidden this from me?"

"What do you mean?" I lean over the table. The caller ID says 'Mine ;)'. Picking up the phone that obnoxiously continues to ring, I frown at the ID. "Urm, I'm not sure who this is." I say slowly. I don't recall keying in this name or knowing anyone who goes by this. Is the ';)' a typing error or something?

My acquaintance only raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

I don't waste another second and press the green circle, pulling it to my ear. "Who's this?"

The voice over the phone is nothing I'm unfamiliar with. "Hello to you too Anna. Glad to know you've already forgotten about me."

I choke on my saliva while blood rushes to my cheeks. "Eric? You did this?"

"Did what?" He asks airily.

"You know what." I growl. "Why are you even calling me?"

All the hearty laughter that passes through the phone isn't reciprocated. "Aren't you out with your friend right now?"

I ground my teeth together. So he's doing this on _purpose_. "How did you know that?"

"Mmm… Wild guess."

Liar.

"Did you even have anything to tell me in the first place?" The nagging suspicion of him prolonging the call is starting to poke me.

The other end goes silent for a moment before finally buzzing to life. "Well I don't, but I think you do." He replies cheekily.

"Were you-" A beep resounds in my ear and my jaw drops.

Did he just-

He definitely did.

Growling under my breath, I have half the mind to call him back up and give him a piece of my mind.

But I can't, because I get: "Is that… is that Eric Coulter?", the person across me splutters. My body jerks at the voice, slowing coming to the realization that Skylar witness the whole thing.

Oh crap.

"No."

She lunges forward, skin-tight shirt almost touching her pasta, forcing me lean back as much as the chair would allow. There's this predatory look in her eye, one that tells me I'm cornered. "It is!"

There are people looking our way now, no doubt because of Skylar's obnoxious exclamations

"No it's not. This is another Eric. He's from highschool." I add the last part a bit more loudly. Then I whisper-yell at her. "Can you keep it down!"

Skylar rolls her eyes and petulantly plants herself back onto the seat. I'm not quite sure what exactly she's doing, but her half-glare resembles a kid in kindergarten. "So the rumors are true."

I cringe. "What rumors?" Who on earth has the time to spread rumors?

"You're the girl who was kissing Eric on the welcoming banquet." Then she clears her throat flippantly. "It's quite a big event. He isn't usually seen with the girls he sleeps with."

My stomach drops. The once appetizing food in front of me now makes me nauseous.

Skylar probably noticed me turning Riley-green, because the next thing I know, she's attempting to make the situation better.

"But I mean, that was over a year ago. He hasn't been with anyone… lately." She rambles, shaking her hands in my face in attempt to comfort me. "At least, that's what everyone's been saying." She mumbles the last part mostly to herself; nonetheless, I caught it anyway.

Just the thought of someone else sleeping in the same bed as him makes me sick to the core.

I slept on that.

"So, when did it start? You guys must be pretty serious if you have his name saved as that." She gestures to the now life-less phone in front of me.

I need time to digest the news, figure out how to live with it if this thing with Eric is going to continue. Yet, I'm also in a dire need for a distraction. "We didn't actually kiss that night, kinda just hugged." Even this sounds unbelievable to my ears after what I've just learned. "In fact, we haven't kissed at all…" I look dejectedly at food before me, feeling oddly embarrassed.

There's a hint of disbelief in her voice. "At all?"

"Yeah."

I expected her to burst into an obnoxious comment, having grown accustomed to her unprompted bursts of emotion since we'd became acquaintances. However, the only sounds are the dying din of conversation around us. I hold in a breath and peer up at her.

"Skylar?"

She tilts her head, seeming to assess me with new eyes. When she speak up again, her voice is ten times softer to what I'm used to. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you guys been together?" The gentleness showing no signs of leaving.

I'm struck with how I too, have no idea. "We-" We never did officiate it. Perhaps it was the day I told him we should give this a shot, or the day of War games where he practically kept me by him. I can't even recall when all these started. It could even be the first day of initiation, where I was freezing to death. But looking at how shocked Skylar was at the lack of kissing, I can't help but wonder if I should consider us as a couple at all. I am confused. "I'm not sure… a few weeks maybe?"

She's astonished. "A few weeks!" Skylar leans back on her chair, making it seem as if the news was too much of an impact. "Wow." She mumbles the last part to herself.

"What?" A few weeks isn't anything. Romantic relationships can go up to years – if Eric isn't just a John reincarnate. After all, everything that we've done so far physically can be easily interpreted as a extremely close platonic relationship. Without myself realizing, I'm thinking in shades of maybes. I could've misinterpreted all his 'don't leave's wrongly, both of us having extremely different meanings to the words.

She then leans forward, silencing all my doubts, and places her elbows on the table, her fish long forgotten. "What's he like?" Her voice is so quiet that I had to strain my ears.

"Urm… I don't-"

"Have you told anyone about this?" She practically whispers over the emptying restaurant.

I think about Four and his snide remarks. "No, not really."

She then asks, "do you want to tell anyone about this?"

Of course I do. I want to advice on the relationship I'm practically walking blind in. I need someone that knows the do's and don'ts of having a relationship here in Dauntless or a relationship at all really.

"Look Anna, I know you may not consider us close, but I'm concerned for you." She says softly. "You need to let people in, people to care for you. Now, I'm not implying that Eric may be blackmailing you, or any sort of that matter. However, I do want to let you know that if ever you need someone to talk to, about anything, I'm right here for you."

I stare, at a loss for words. Never in a million years would I have thought Skylar to be more than a gossip and party buddy. She's revealing a new side of her today, a side rarely found here in Dauntless.

"Thank you. I'm just-" I pause and take a deep breath. "It's just that I had bad experiences with people in the past. Which is why I'm so distant from everyone."

"Bad experiences are good." She nods her head, surprising me. "They help you see the world from a different light. But, don't let that make you forget that there's still good all around you."

* * *

"Way to go ANNA!"

I cringe as multiple heads turn to me. Uriah is shoving bystanders aside, a wide grin spread across his face.

As much as he is unnecessarily embarrassing me, I'm grateful to see a familiar face. "Hey." And that's all I can manage before he's grabbing me through the throng of people.

"First place!" He proclaims, almost shaking with excitement. "I'm so happy for you! I tried to find you during the welcoming banquet but mama needed me to help her at the kitchens." He pouts. "And you're here now! I didn't expect to see you so soon! Come, come, Lynn is here today. She's absolutely dying to meet you."

The first thing that goes through my mind as my eyes land on the dependant is that she's definitely not dying to see me.

"Anna right?" She asks monotonously. "Heard you came in first. Congrats." Despite her words, she seems like she couldn't care less. And for some reason, I'm grateful for that. It's nice to not have people jumping onto you.

"Umm, thanks."

"That means she respects you." Uriah whispers into my ear before I can form an impression of her.

Lynn is striking, even with the minimal effort she's put in to do so. Her hair is pulled back to reveal golden-brown eyes and full lips. I won't even be surprised if she had a string of boys kissing the ground she walks on.

It dawns on me that Uriah and Lynn are the only two people in our team here today. "Where's Zeke?" It's currently past dinner, surely Zeke's working hours has ended.

He start's blabbering. "Oh, Zeke has a night shift. He works at the control room with Four." The mention of my friend hit a sore spot. "Usually it's just me, Lynn and Marlene that's here. Since we don't have any work to do as dependants, we come here more often than them. It's nice. Zeke's kinda bossy and lame. And Four is just boring. I mean, they are good, just not fun to be with. Sometimes, I wonder if-"

I cut him off after I realise that I'll never get to ask my question. "Who's Marlene?"

He pauses, furrowing his brows. It's almost as if he had forgotten that he mentioned her. Then his face lights up and he points towards the ring in front of us. "She's with us. We all grew up together." In the ring is a brown-haired girl evading a man. She's practically dancing through the course.

Four didn't mention her being in Lions. "She in another team or something?"

"For chase tag? Oh no, she prefers to do this for fun. Marlene doesn't understand why people would voluntarily put themselves under pressure, especially when the bets are running high."

"She seems very adept in the sport though."

This time, it's Lynn who speaks up. "She is."

We lapse into silence as we watch her glide from platform to platform. My mind then drifts back to Eric. Albeit confused on where we stand, deep down I know that he feels for me the way I feel for him. Scratch that, I only know this because of the way Skylar was squealing over everything.

"I don't think you can just 'upload contacts' onto a phone. There isn't any technology that has been invented similar to that." She said, genuinely perplexed as I explained how I didn't actually save his name as that.

"But that's what he said to me."

Suddenly, a light flickered off her head and she was leaning forward again, a knowing smile on her face. "I think… he manually uploaded every single one of the numbers."

After hearing her theory, I checked the number of contacts in my phone, attempting to gauge the amount of effort he had put into this. Next to each name was their job in brackets, something that I didn't take notice when I was calling Johanna to speak to John. In total, there were thirty contacts in total. Heck.

Skylar started swooning then, as realization crept onto my face. She was gushing about his efforts while I was horrified by it. The time that he must've spent to do the tedious and unnecessary job of locating their numbers and keying them in one by one was far too far-fetched for me to grasp. He should've just given me the contacts on a printed paper for me to do it myself, then I wouldn't have felt so guilty for not thanking him more last night.

Speaking to Skylar was refreshing. She was right, I did need someone to talk to.

I told her most of my experiences with Eric, just excluding the whole chunk about having met him on the fence and all the physical fights we – well technically it was just I who was getting physical – had. I had to make that split second decision or else I would reveal more than what's safe for the both of us.

When I first started, she seems apprehensive of everything. I could tell from the fleeting frowns that dotted her features, despite her not voicing out her thoughts. I suppose I can sympathize with her, why would the big mean Eric converse with a peace-maker instead of talking her down? She even had me reaffirm multiple times that yes, this is the same Eric Coulter – the ruthless one – that we're talking about.

It was only when I recalled how he stood up to Riley did my friend's attitude towards Eric changed. "That's sweet," was the first positive thing she said since I started my ramble.

"I guess it was." I don't mention how confused I was after that incident.

Once I reached to the events that occurred yesterday, she might as well be wearing a 'Team Eric' shirt. She was absolutely bought over by his sweet actions towards me, pressuring me to take the next step into the relationship or publicly state my claim like he _not-so-subtly_did to me.

Skylar is the friend I never thought I needed. Spending time with her helped me see everything in a bird-eye view and agree that 'yes, Eric treats me too amazingly well to just want friendship', though I hesitated when she said he was perfect for me.

It was surprising; I didn't feel the typical pounding or irritation whenever I over-exceed my time allocated for socialising. So much so that it was_I _that asked if she would like to go furniture shopping with me. It took her a while to understand why I would pick out weird items like knotted ropes, unnecessary drying racks and surplus towels. Explaining the concept of dog friendly-ing the apartment was difficult for her to grasp; especially since she didn't have a fraction of idea of the array of skills a dog can perform.

Nonetheless, she was absolutely mesmerized by my dogs – despite not having met them yet. As receptive she is towards their arrival, I can't help but feel pressurized to make them look more… presentable.

Marlene continues on a few matches, with Uriah and Lynn eventually going up to play against her. It is only when she's finally out of breath does she step down from the ring. She turns to Uriah when she spots my unfamiliar face, no doubt asking who I am. Eventually, her eyes light up and she practically skips her way to me.

"Hi!" Her voice is light and airy, almost like she's on cloud-nine. "Heard you joined the Lions." She side glances a panting Uriah. "How have the boys been treating you? They can get a bit rough sometimes."

"Hey!" Uriah whines. He says 'we are not!' the same time Lynn says 'they are.' "And we treat her perfectly fine," he childishly adds.

Marlene only playfully rolls her eyes and shoves him. "Doubtful."

I should laugh, engage with their nearing-physical bickering and 'make friends', but a familiar blond head just appeared through my peripherals.

It's Eric's.

Just when I try to get a confirmation, he's gone.

Like a moth to a flame, everyone around me fades away and I'm heading towards the exit. It is like I'm possessed, every thought I had flying out of the window as hope sparks that he's here. An odd feeling, considering that we now just live across each other.

I can faintly register Uriah's alarm at my abrupt leave, but it's gone as soon as it came.

There. There's a man walking down the corridor, away from The Ramp. It's difficult to tell if it's him from the bad lighting. The only hint I get is his short hair illuminating off the lights whenever he directly passes under it.

"Eric?"

He pauses. It's definitely him. Slowly, he turns and minutely tilts his head, almost unsure if he misheard.

I weigh the option of running up to him. And I almost did, until I realized that it wasn't only Eric who paused, but a woman heading my way too. Her eyebrows have flown to her bangs and she's looking at me like I've grown two heads.

I only give her a polite smile and continue on my way.

His features relax into familiarity once I'm only a few feet away. "Hey." There's this smile playing on his lips, one so contagious that I can't help but do the same.

"Hey." I fall in step with him. "Whatcha doing here?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Looking for you. But I didn't want to disturb you."

I bite my lower lip and look away, suddenly feeling shy. "You could've come up to me anyways, I wouldn't have mind." Anytime, any day, is what I really want to add.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself. I'm glad you're mixing around."

I shrug. "Nah, I was distracted anyways," by you. Then a though passes through me. "By the way, did you manually key in all my contacts?"

A cheeky grin etches onto his face. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, if you did, you made a typing error." I grunt.

"Did I?" He bites his lip, thinking. "Was it Johanna's?"

I open the contacts and start scrolling. "No, yours."

"Mine?" The cheeky grin is back. "I don't think I did." We pass by another Dauntless member. This one is a female dependant, she's doesn't even bother to cover her shock at both of us walking side by side. We both ignore her.

A groan bubbles on my throat. "No, I'm serious!" I push the phone towards him and point at the weird ';)'. "Look here."

Instead of an 'oops', he does this: The big meanie purses his lips, nods once, and laughs. Actually_laughs_. It's like he's lost his mind, his sudden outburst rushed and uncontrolled.

"What?"

He's doubling over now, oddly finding my question fuelling towards his mirth. "It's a face." He rasps out, face growing noticeably redder under the dim lights. "God. You're. So. Fucking. Adorable."

Now my face is heating up. "No it isn't." That looks nothing like a face. My voice has now contorted into an embarrassed whine. "Stop laughing."

He doesn't; well, not really. In fact, he seems to be having the time of his life while I'm here being unable to relate and _am_the laughing stock. "Sideways." He finally manages out.

I rotate the phone sideways. "It's looks nothing-"

"The other way."

My nostrils flare and I begrudgingly rotate it the other way. "Oh," I say stupefied. It's a winky face.

Walking around with Eric's booming laughter wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't the unintentional source of it. It is, least to say, a horrible feeling. Especially when you're trying to impress him and show him how you're not a fool. By the time he quiets into shaking wheezes, blood has completely rushed to my face and I'm very sure that both of us sport identical tomato complexions.

We're approaching the Pit now, I don't think I want everyone to see us – see me, really - like this. "Eric stopppp laughing."

He quiets down, only to wrap an arm around my shoulder to pull me close. "But you're so cute." He coos, nuzzling into my hair.

"I didn't know okay! I never had a phone before!" I growl back. There was never a need for a mobile during my eighteen years of life, mainly because my dogs took up too much of my time for me to require one when it was time for me to get it.

"I know. That's what makes it cuter." He pulls back and notices my scowl. "Ngaw, don't be like that."

My scowl deepens.

He kisses my forehead. Unlike me who's brain has gone slack by the gesture, he doesn't seem to notice this new milestone. I'm suddenly glad that I'm already too red for him to realise the effect it had on me. "Alright, alright, I'll stop," he concedes, engulfing my hand in his as we enter the bright lights of the Pit.

* * *

**A/N**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I'll be focusing on heavily editing (or rewriting) the first few chapters. I realised that they are pretty crappily write :')**

Yes, I now have time to write due to the lockdown. A-Levels is pretty hectic, haven't quite gotten the time to write (if at all). I'm also in a mini crisis (I'm sure you guys have been through far worse haha) because decided against become a vet, which means that I'll have to start from ground 0.(Understand that I had internships already planned out and pretty much got my path to applying to uni set) So yeah, everything is cools. Kinda wanna forget everything and devote my time to writing this fanfic zzz


	26. 26

"So, you and Eric huh?"

Liam is driving me to Amity in the overly large truck. I would've argued more on taking a less intimidating vehicle to a land of peace-mongers, but I suppose the dogs would appreciate the window view and not being cramped with all their stuff.

I didn't actually think Eric would've agreed to my request of having Liam with me – the only reason being because he's the only person I know; hence, I sent a request to Veronica. Personally, I would've preferred Eric to come instead; he is capable of driving trucks too. However, Liam's presence would be vital if I'm going to have the dogs pick up their own food in the morning.

At this point in time, I no longer see a reason to blush and beat around the bush. "What about it?"

He is taken aback, jaws falling for a split second at my seemingly frank answer before composing himself.

Liam is dressed smartly today. He dones the standard Dauntless jacket and cargo pants while I'm in a black tee and three-quarter pants. His blond hair is gelled up at the front and the sun is dancing across his face. Steely blue eyes, long lashes and slightly curved nose meticulously arranged onto the canvas that is his face. A looker, he is, faintly tanned and all.

His adam's apple bobs in my peripheral. "I think…", it bobs again, "it's nice that he found someone." It's almost like it was the most difficult thing he had ever said, judging by how he straightened his back and cleared his throat afterwards.

What his intentions are, I'm not sure. Eric is amazing, but I vaguely understand why he's acting like this. My eyes narrow onto the dashboard in front of me, hackles raised. "It is," I reply coolly. "He's nice."

His eyes widen marginally in surprise. "Then why me?" He blurts.

My head turns and cocks to the side to get a better view of him. "Why what?"

He clears his throat and clarifies, "why am I driving you to Amity instead?"

Ah. Veronica didn't tell him then.

I reply his question with another. "What do you know right now? About this?"

He shrugs, rubbing his neck while keeping the other hand on the steering wheel. "I honestly have no idea. Veronica told me this morning that I'll be driving you to Amity today. Something about picking up some stuff. And then after that, I get threaten-" His eyes pop as he realizes what he almost said. "I mean, I was given the day off if I help you with this. So I said yes. Plus, you're cool to be with. I mean, it'll be nice to have a change of scenery. Don't get me wrong, I would've said yes if it was anyone else." He blabbers off in embarrassment.

An ear-splitting grin spreads across my face, having really only caught wind of the part where he doesn't know what he's picking up. "You're from Candor right?"

He frowns in confusion. "Yeah….?"

It won't be long till I see his dumbfounded expression. "Then it wouldn't be too bad." Candor is the second faction with the highest pet population.

"What?" He splutters.

I chuckle at his growing apprehension. "Nothing."

As we slip back into silence, I begin to analyze what Liam said moments ago. So he was threatened; by Eric, no doubt. I should be surprised that Eric found out Liam's fetching me, yet I'm really not. But I _am _surprised that he didn't just ask Veronica to reject my request the moment he got the news.

As much as I appreciate Eric not invading my space, he_is_invading my space. His actions are confusing, in the sense that he didn't have Liam swapped out when he clearly doesn't like the poor Dauntless soldier.

Letting out a sigh, I push Eric's interference to the back of my head. It's not a big deal anyways.

* * *

I miss home.

My windows are down before the gate shuts behind us. It is a cloudy day, the kind of perfect weather where I'll spend all day out with my dogs. I have half the mind to tell Liam to just drop me off here so I can walk all the way to the barn. He shouldn't mind such a request, after all, he would have to explain to Eric if he decides to leave me.

At that moment, my phone pings, breaking my train of thought. I pull it from the side of the door. It's 'Mine ;)'.

_Arrived?_

"Is that maroon? Man, I think I've only seen like, one other person with that colour."

"Really?" I ask distractedly. "How so?" _Just got through the gates, maybe 5 more minutes._

"For starters, maroon phones are not sold at Dauntless, or anywhere really. The stores here only have black, the colour of our faction." _Don't let Liam leave without you. I don't think I can handle three dogs and an idiot alone. _"So, when did you get that? Didn't you just become a member a few days ago?"

There are butterflies in my stomach. _Really? I think you'll be surprise at the extent of their abilities, _I text back."Err. Two days ago I think. Eric gifted it to me."

"Wow. That's nice of him." _Never mind their abilities, it's not them I want._

I look out through the window, a small smile on my lips. Not going to lie, I am liking this new side of Eric. The slight playful possessiveness is making my insides fuzzy. I'm starting to regret not asking Eric to bring me here instead. "He is."

My phone dings again. _Or need. ;)_

How does one become a smooth texter?

"Why are there dogs tailing us?" Liam suddenly says nervously, eyes darting between the road in front and the rear view mirror. "Does Amity just have their canines running around every where? How are they even keeping up with the truck? We're going at 25 miles an hour!"

Sure enough, my dogs are tailing the truck with Sabre as the lead. I wonder whether John was taking them out for their morning exercise. "Theoretically, they can run up to 30 miles; not that I've tested their speeds."

The barn is coming into view. Johanna agreed two days ago that I'll pick up their belongings here. "Wait, they're yours?" Liam's voice turns into an alarmed shrill; surprising, for a man. "Are we picking them up? Since when can you have pets in Dauntless?" It had conveniently slipped my mind that perhaps not every transfer shares the same likening to animals. Maybe I should've pre-empted him earlier.

"You can't, at least, not yet." Not that he would take up the opportunity when given, it appears. "I went to Max for permission to bring them over."

The truck rolls to a stop. "Oh." Blood drains from his face as the dogs approach the vehicle.

I cringe and grab hold of the door handle, slipping my phone into my pocket. "You can stay here actually, I just need to transport their stuff and we can go."

He nods immediately and jerks away from me when a silver furry head pops through the window. "Yep, yep. You don't need any help, do you?" His voice is strained, so much that I can practically hear him screaming 'please say no'.

My hand instinctively reaches to the back of my panting dog's ear. "Oh hi Sabre. Whatchu doing here? You saw me far away?" I turn back to Liam, voice briefly returning to its normal pitch. "Yep, no worries. John will help move the stuff."

Two more heads pop on each side of Sabre's, tongue lolling as they greet me. "Hi boys." I angle my body completely towards them, my hands cupping each individual and crunching their face. "Did you guys leave John far, far behind? That's not nice, you know he hates snakes." I grab the door handle. "X'cuse me, I need to get out. We need to look for- Sabre." My fingers go to his opening jaws. "No need to howl. You're gonna start a howling session."

If a dog could pout, this would be it. "Sabre; hey, Sabre. How are you even doing this when you ran a good mile?" The dog stops and stares at me for a moment before his mouth opens wide again and he's panting. "Alright, move it. I need to get out." If I don't get the dogs away from the door, I'm pretty sure the truck will go up by a few degrees with the amount of panting they are doing.

Maybe I should've waited for them to calm down a bit before exiting the vehicle.

Currently I'm lying on my back, not staring at the blue sky, but at three smelly snouts. Why does it even surprise me that Sabre and Gunner would take any opportunity to knock me down? Obviously, it's not on purpose; well, I hope it's not. But when two dogs who's combined weight exceeds your own_and_simultaneously wants to see you at eye level, there's not much you can do except submit to your unfortunate fate.

Liam's shrill voice flits over the pants. "On second thought. I think I'll come and help you."

I jerk up, throwing my arms around my dogs to give myself leverage to sit up. "No no, it's fine. I can manage." Surely he didn't see me ungracefully take a tumble right? Blood rushes to my face.

His following words are strained and constipated. "I insist. I just remembered something." Ah; so this must be involuntary then. The audible sound of the opening vehicle door registers to my ears, making me hastily scramble to my feet and pat off the dried grass.

Giving the wagging mess more pats, I subtly push them aside as I trudge towards the barn. "Their stuff is in the barn. It'll be definitely more than four boxes." Suddenly remembering my dog's caretaker, I look over my shoulder. There's a silhouette running to us; three limp ropes hanging from his left shoulder. I feel guilty for not asking Liam to back-track to pick up John on the way.

"Your dogs… my goodness." Is the first thing John rasps when he's five feet from me. By now, the dogs have all gotten a good fill of water from the horse troughs and are staring at John in unintentional innocence. "They practically just left me! Me! Their babysitter for a month – the moment they caught a whiff of you! Not even seen or heard you, a WHIFF!" He points accusingly at my canines. "Unbelievable!" He shoves the snap-release leashes to me and stumbles into the barn, grumbling something incoherent.

As much as I do feel bad that the dogs left John in the dust, I'm also glad that they picked me over him, even after abandoning them for Dauntless. "So… what have you been up to lately?" I ask, turning my heel to follow him.

At this, John straightens up and turns to me, all resentment earlier non-existent. Then he gestures to the room near the staircase – the same room I had manufactured the dogs. "Your dogs have been a tremendous help to us. You have no idea how horrified Johanna was when you called the other day to collect the dogs so quickly." He chuckles; I cringe. "Though she did already voiced that she would like to have a permanent set of helping paws, she wasn't quite ready to let go of the boys yet."

He moves over to the computer attached to the machine, clicking files. "So you've been hunting through the genes bank for her?" He pulls up multiple screens of dog breeds, all of which are large in size and in the working group.

"Not quite, I've just been narrowing down the choices for her. Was hoping you could provide some insight before your dad processes the finalised product. She wants something that represents the faction and has the same work ethic as yours." He moves over as I look through the selections.

"Where will it be staying?" I enquire. "There's a foster mom available?"

Whether lab-grown or not, puppies are puppies; and no human can teach a pup the ropes to life like a canine mother.

"The dog will be staying with her. She's been figuring out the ropes of caring for a dog. Gunner has the most patience when she's fumbling around. The other two tend to get restless after a while. One of the farmers' females are expecting in one and a half months, he assured us that the female will be able to take in a few more."

So there's more than one dog? "A few?" I press.

John's ears turn visible pink. "Well… I planning to get a dog as well…" He shuffles on his feet.

I turn back to the screen, removing the bullmastiff from the list. "Why the change of heart? My dogs have been here for two years and only now you're deciding to get one?" Mastiff, Leonberger, Newfoundland, Greater Swiss Mountain dog and Bernese Mountain dog; John has definitely done his research. I highly doubt that we would have the genome of a Leonberger.

"Is it there a girl involved?" I'm happy for him. It's about time he stop making work his main priority.

The audible sound of him shuffling his feet more bounces around the room. "Maybe…"

I decide not to press, changing the subject to the task at hand. "There." The list has been narrowed down to two breeds. "The Mastiff is lower in maintenance and somewhat quieter, just need to be careful when around other dogs. The Bernese on the other hand, definitely more grooming required but it's easier to train and calmer in general. And yours?"

"I'm planning for a Frenchie", he says. I almost want to ask if he decided that or she did, because I never took John for liking small breeds.

"Good choice."

The first thing that catches my eye when we exit the room is something in Sabre's mouth. Pinky – a pink unicorn specially made for Sabre when he went crazy seeing it in a movie over a year ago – was hanging limping in the big canine's jaws, extended out to a bordering petrified Liam. Sabre rarely lets anyone touch Pinky, much less share it. "Please help." The big bad Dauntless says, never keeping his eyes off the dog.

"He's offering it to you!" Sabre is standing between Liam and the untouched boxes, I wonder how long he's been standing there like an ice cube.

"How do you know he's not going to bite me!" He yells back. I hear a fake cough beside me and side glare at John.

A sigh escapes my lips and I stroll over to Liam. "Then he won't be offering it to you, or be wagging his tail." I grab the toy from Sabre and push it to Liam. "Look at it and give it back. He wants to show you how it cute it looks." There are multiple large boxes and a cooler bag. I turn to John and bend down, "these will last the week?" Inside the cooler bag contains at least ten tubes of what I assume is pressed meat and other produce.

My cousin sidles up to me and pulls out a tube. "Yep. Planning to get these produced in a wider scale. Now that meat is being produced at a faster rate, I think we can afford to export these to the other factions. Of course, we will see the response from Amity first. Farmers may not be willing to pay a higher price for raw food, since dry food is much less of a hassle."

"You could speak to Johanna to offer it for free?" After all, even the feed for the meat comes from Amity. However, I am uneducated on how trade works, so it may not be a good idea for it to be free. "I think Candor will be willing to put in the money though. They tend to love their pets more than we do." I side glance to Liam; he's stretching out his hand to see if he could touch the dog like it's an alien. "Well… most of them."

Johanna dropped by as we were loading the truck with supplies. I did give her a more detailed explanation on the dog breeds John chose and why I narrowed down the list. Liam on the other hand seemed to be warming up to Sabre and Hawk, after I reassured him multiple times that my dogs won't attack him like in the aptitude test. I can already foresee that this will be an issue once they arrive at the compound.

"Aren't you afraid that they'll jump out of the window?" Liam asks curiously, any previous apprehension slowly fading as time ticks on. Sabre and Hawk have their heads stuck out on the window behind Liam while Gunner has his own space. The only thing they're wearing is their standard collar with their names attached.

I lift a shoulder and roll up my window once we passed the gates, ignoring the confused faces of the guards when seeing dogs being transported in their faction's vehicle. "No, not really. They don't really have a reason to jump out," unless they see a squirrel maybe. "Why were you so afraid of them? Was it just because of the dog in the aptitude test?"

For a long time, I don't get a reply, which made me think he didn't hear me. So, I decide to text Skylar and Eric my arrival time. Skylar had me swore that she would be among the first people to welcome the dogs, even threatening me that she would spill the beans of me and Eric if I were to magically forget. Normally, I would've purposely defy a demand just because I have the right and also because I'm pretty sure some people already know about us, but then again, it would be nice to be normal once in a while.

"I guess back in Candor, all of the dogs were much smaller. Literally the largest dog I've seen back then only came up to your dogs' back. Most of the time, they are one-third the size."

Makes sense. "Ah. Most of the time, the smaller the dog, the crazier they are." Which is why Amity have larger dogs. Imagine the peace-lovers attempting to handle a crazed missile while maintain their smiley composure; definitely a sight to see.

"Yeah, your dogs seem pretty cool. What are their names?" Just as he says that, a furry head pokes out between us.

Gunner looks to me with his ears perked, his long tongue hanging out as he demands for pets. My hand goes to the back of his ear. "To start, this is Gunner. He's the calmest among the trio, has a knack for pulling wagons too. He's not as people friendly as Hawk, but he'll do. Yea boy?" The dog only tilts his head in response. "Aren't you just the cutest one." Both hands move to mush his face. "Just a big baby at heart aren't you? You want to pull more wagons? I'm sure Liam here wouldn't mind your help."

At this, the aforementioned person splutters. "Sorry what? Pull wagons? To do what? Does Veronica know about this?"

"Yep. Or moving trolleys, should work as well if you don't have them."

"When?" He sounds pretty apprehensive at the thought of this friendly dog decreasing his workload.

"Mmm… I think Max told her."

He blanks, stupefied. "Ah."

* * *

Even from yards away, Skylar is visibly bubbling with excitement. Eric texted me earlier that he'll only be back from Erudite in another hour or so. I do my best to be optimistic about his late arrival, telling myself that him being in the same vicinity of Skylar will definitely not go down well.

"Who's that?" Liam asks, shifting the gear to a reverse.

I cringe. "Err, well, that's my friend. Same initiation group." By now, the dogs have awaken from their nap and are peering curiously at the rolled up windows. "Stay."

The crazed animalistic roar of 'WHERE ARE THE OVERGROWN PUPPIES' could be heard clearly from the outside of the truck. Skylar is racing towards the truck with her arms swinging wildly in the air.

I panickily turn to Liam, "lock the doors." It would do absolutely no good if the Skylar threw the door open and the curiosity of being in a new place overcomes the command I gave the dogs.

By the time the truck comes to complete stop, Skylar's face is inches from the window and her eyes are huge. I sent a desperate prayer to the gods above that Skylar won't do anything unintelligent.

With that, I'm clambering out of the vehicle at lightspeed with three concerned – or confused – pairs of brown eyes on me. But despite all my effort, Skylar still manages to beat me to speak. "They look so cuteeee and adorable and scary and friendly. ! I love it!" she squeals, practically jumping on the spot as everyone else gives her weird looks. "Can I pet them? Please, please can I pet them?"

Moving to the trunk, I dragged out the box labelled as 'accessories'. "Sure. Just give me a moment," I grunt.

She peers curiously over my hunched form as I pull out their work vests, leashes and loop muzzles. "What's that for?"

"I'm leashing them." Mostly for their safety, not so much the general populations'. In the event a dog falls off the cliff, I don't want for them to be clinging onto dear life by their necks, hence the vests.

Skylar, surprisingly, wisely chooses not to push on the topic; or perhaps she's just too fascinated by how Gunner willingly slips on his equipment.

"Here, this is Gunner." I extend the leash that is three-quarters the length of the dog's body to her as he hops down from the truck. "You can play with him until I'm done with the other two." Gunner eyes me questioningly, but I force myself to relax and pat him on the head as reassurance. Maybe I should've leashed Hawk first, Gunner _is _a teeny weeny bit aloof with strangers.

Though I didn't turn to look, I knew Skylar had dropped to a squat by the way she was talking in a babyish tone to him. A tone that uncannily… resembles… mine.

"They look more majestic in real life," a resonant voice approaches behind me.

Only when Hawk jumps down do I face Veronica. "They are. Thanks so much for agreeing on this."

"It's no problem. May I?" She gestures to an excited Hawk; he's such a sucker for attention.

Draping the leash across his back, I reply, "sure."

I keep my focus trained on the dogs, feeling intensely nervous about how the rest of Dauntless will react. Yes, Skylar and Veronica seem to already fallen in love with them, but the fact that no one else has come up to greet them means something. And I hope that this will only be temporary.

* * *

**A/N**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Because I definitely did enjoy writing it.**

**Thank you all for your support :) Waking up to an email saying that someone has favourited/followed my story really brings a smile to my face, especially when online classes are a drain.**


	27. 27

"He's so well behaved!"

I grunt as Sabre tugs on the leash, his forefeet in the air as he strains towards the edge of the stone cut-out walkway. "Really?" Sometimes, I honestly think that the main purpose of my two years of physical preparation was to be able to not fall over when a 65-pound hound pulls me in one direction.

Skylar is practically skipping ahead of me, Hawk's tail wagging exaggeratedly beside her. "Yeah! Aren't you boy?" she turns to the fawn-colored pup, petting his head.

Of course, Hawk is well-behaved, he's too entranced by showers of cooing and pets Skylar is giving him – compared to Sabre who finds the lack of railings interesting. "That's," I grunt as Sabre jots towards the edge again, "nice."

It is midday at Dauntless, and I can't be more grateful for that fact. There weren't many people around as most were either working or at school. So far, we had a few run-ins with a couple of Dauntless, most of which froze in shock the moment they saw the four-legged creatures. Skylar has been pretty helpful when this happens, her cheery demeanor is so palpable that almost all who froze eventually loosened up to talk to us and occasionally give Hawk a pat.

Gunner seems uncomfortable in the situation we're in, despite not viciously showing it, I tell by how he tenses and presses to my side. Sabre and Hawk, on the other hand, seem utterly delighted by all the new smells and people they get to meet.

"So, what are you going to do for the rest of the day?" Skylar starts up after we introduced the dogs to yet another curious member.

My hand slips down to Gunner's head unconsciously. "Unpack I guess. I'll have to bring them outside in the evening and at night too to visit the places." The faster they familiarize themselves with their surroundings, the faster they can get off the leash.

"Are you bringing them to the mess hall?"

My thoughts come to an abrupt stop. Crap, the mess hall. Bringing the dogs to the dining hall isn't a good idea, especially with how cramped it is and the number of new people there. I don't want to ruin people's meals either, mainly those who have a fear of dogs. "Eventually," I reply slowly.

"Oh. So what about dinner?"

It honestly isn't a good idea to bring the dogs to a restaurant yet, since I haven't asked if dogs can be brought in. I toy with the idea of leaving them in the apartment but ultimately decided against it. "I'll just stay at the apartment, no worries."

"Sure."

There are boxes upon boxes stacked up beside my door. Liam had somewhat volunteered to bring them up for me while Skylar and I took the longer route home. I gaze upon the mountain of work before me and let out a long sigh. Why do the dogs have more stuff than I do?

"Hey, do you want to stay over for a bit? I'm sure the dogs would enjoy your company."

Skylar looks back to me, face visibly brightened. "Really?"

I don't tell her that the main reason is to keep my dogs distracted. "Yeah, Hawk and Gunner seem to enjoy your presence. I'm sure Sabre will too." Well, Gunner will get used to her, eventually. "You have plans today?"

She moves over to give me space to key in the passcode on the door. "Well, Zack is taking me out on a date tonight, but I can stay till evening."

"No no, it's fine. Where is he? Figured you would've brought him with you earlier." I was legitimately surprised when I only saw Skylar anticipating the dogs' arrival, I thought she would've run her mouth and spread the news.

"Oh, I didn't know if I was supposed to keep it a secret, so I didn't tell anyone. Zack thinks I'm at the daycare. Maybe I'll tell him later if that's all right."

"Daycare?"

"Yep! I'll be starting work there soon." I conceal my shock by slipping off my shoes and walking into my apartment. Skylar? Children? _As a job? _

I suppose I never did ask about her interests. "That's nice."

I'm not sure what else to say after that.

"I always liked children. Getting a job at the daycare was the only job I considered. You should come visit sometime, you could bring your dogs too! It would be good to expose the kids to animals." Then she turns to Hawk and coos at the doorway, "Is it, boy? You wanna meet some little humans? They are super cute. Well… until one of them cries or poops themselves."

That's a horrible idea. "I'll think about it." Squashing down the spark of annoyance that flares through me, I quickly change the topic. "Slip off your boots and place them here. You can hang out at the couches with the dogs, while I unpack." I unleash Sabre and slip off his vest and muzzle.

"Taking off shoes?", she asks in bewilderment. "Never knew that was an Amity thing."

I reached for the damp cloth on the rack and squat down wiped his paws. "Not really, it's a family thing I guess."

"Huh." Skylar strolls into my apartment while I took over Hawk's leash and repeated the same procedure. Sabre's busy sniffing around the apartment, how his nose has yet to tire amazes me.

Gunner is the last to be released. By the time I straighten up my back and stand, Skylar has only been done scanning my living room. Her mouth is open, almost like she's never seen an apartment before. Deciding that she wasn't going to say anything until I do it first, I say almost unkindly, "What?"

She only replies when I carry the cooler and a box in. "Your apartment is huge! You live by yourself?"

If mine is huge, Eric's must be colossal. "Yeah, kinda. Isn't your apartment just as huge since you're sharing with Zach?"

"I'm pretty sure ours is smaller. My family's apartment bigger, but still."

"Right," I say, continuing to unload the week's worth of dog feed that consisted of the tubed meat, raw bones, fresh produce, and some small supplements.

We lapse into a comfortable silence with Skylar on the couch with Hawk and Gunner by my side as I unpack the various boxes. The dogs have a ton of stuff; bedding, toys, gear, more bedding, bathing items, vacuum for their shedding, grooming tools, training equipment, snacks; the list goes on.

I'm relieved that the dogs are finally here; with little trouble too. Skylar's presence has definitely reduced my stress, for I don't think I'll be able to hold onto three dogs that could simultaneously tug me towards one direction – not that they have done it before.

At one point, Sabre had Pinky beside him, curling up with it on the couch. Skylar squealed when she saw the pink fluff, but I was quick to warn her not to disturb him. Eventually, all the dogs fell asleep and Skylar dutifully gets up to leave me in peace.

But right when she just finished lacing her boots, the doorbell rings.

"Hi, Eric."

"Hi, Anna."

From behind the door I just opened, Skylar is soundlessly squealing at us, making exaggerated hand gestures of things I'm not sure of.

"Sorry, I was caught up in Erudite; Jeanine wanted to show me something."

I somehow manage to successfully muster a smile despite the news. "No, no, it's fine." Looking over my shoulder, Gunner has his head perked in curiosity. "Skylar actually, was just about to leave."

The shock on her face was the funniest thing I've seen today. Her jaw's unhinged and she staring at me like she just witnessed an animal being run over. "You traitor!" she whisper-yells. I only shrug in response as I pull the door wider. She then straightens her spine as she exits from her hiding place. "Good afternoon," is her most likely rehearsed greeting to leaders. "Thanks for letting me play with the dogs, Anna." Even with her back to me, I can tell she's scowling for being kicked out, despite supposedly leaving before Eric came.

'No worries', is what I'm trying to say, but it probably came out as muffles since Eric snaked his arms around my body and squashed me to him. Just like that, I lost my entire train of thought and what's going on. There wasn't exactly a word I could use to describe the smell that is Eric. For there is nothing in this small world I've experienced that's come close to the warm, comforting and masculine scent of him.

"Anna?"

"Yes, Eric?" I mumbled to his jacket.

He pauses. For a moment, trepidation fills me when he didn't immediately say what's on his mind, making me guess he had bad news to deliver – for example, my dogs being kicked out. Though for what, I'm not quite sure.

So, when all he said was 'hi', I can't help but stare up at him like he had grown two heads. "Hi Eric. What is it?" I ask, apprehensive.

Another long pause. "Nothing." Though his delays in replying should make me uneasy, his warm tone makes me think that there really wasn't anything wrong.

Yet, I couldn't help but be sure. "What is it?" I ask again, eyebrow quirked.

He merely shrugs. "Just wanted to say hi. Hi Anna."

My nostrils flare in amusement and I have the urge to laugh at his child-like behavior. "Hi Eric. You've done that three times already."

"I know," is all he says. No 'sorry' or 'really?', just an 'I know'. I think I'm kind of liking this Eric; this odd cuddly one.

"Have you eaten then?" I ask. Surely he had, considering that it had been well over an hour since he last texted me and also because now it's two.

His voice lowers into concern, "have you?"

"No." The last time I've eaten anything was probably a good seven hours ago. Who was I kidding? I'm famished.

A smile breaks out on his face at my response. "Me neither." Then he releases me and tugs my hand. "Let's go."

Now, I would've happily agreed and trot off to the land of food with him, but then I remembered my three canines. I couldn't just abandon my dogs within the _first_ hour of bringing them here. "But the dogs are-"

He glances past me briefly and cuts me off, "asleep."

Sure enough, when I look over my shoulder, Gunner's head has disappeared, probably because he didn't sense anything wrong – well, I hope that's the reason. I feel a tad bit betrayed by the fact that they are already asleep after just reuniting with me; mainly because they weren't the ones who spent the last hour unpacking their stuff, that was all me.

Hence, with literally nothing holding me back, I disgruntledly said, "Fine."

* * *

Lunch with Eric was nice. We had an unsaid mutual agreement that getting food into our bellies immediately was more important than sitting down at a restaurant. He mostly asked about my day and how the members were reacting towards the dogs. It felt oddly comfortable, despite talking to the most dangerous man in-

"May I speak with you?"

The sudden vicinity of the voice practically made my jump out of my skin, and I had no trouble conveying that to the speaker, considering that the only word I shrieked was one from the four-letter variety.

Mother would be disappointed.

My pupils narrow into slits as I scowled, a headache forming from my pounding heart.

The figure in the shadows shuffles into the daylight the hastily, a – I could be seeing things – sheepish look on his face. "I apologize."

"Have you been waiting for me to pass through this whole time?!" I screech, irritated. We are at the beginning of the hallways that lead to the apartments. How long has Four been waiting here? Was it really necessary for him to creep me out like that? What's he doing here anyway, after what he said about me and Eric.

The honey-skinned man only clenches his jaw at my question and looks away. "No."

He definitely did.

I narrow my eyes and interrogate him. "How did you know that I was going to pass through here?", hands wrung together as I attempt to calm myself.

He barely hesitates. "I work in intelligence."

His responses are not helping the situation. "Which means?"

Then he sighs and averts his gaze far above me before snapping back to my glare. "Can we speak elsewhere? Please?"

I think about the three beasts that are currently in my apartment and how bringing Four there is a horrible idea – for him. Gauging the situation now, I'm pretty sure things will escalate. And as much as I would like to get him back for scaring me, I don't need my pups to be kicked out on day one. So instead of saying 'sure' like the decent personI'd like to think I am, I brattily say, "I didn't even agree."

As predicted, he sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, I just wanted to say that-"

My voice cuts his off, "we can do it in the training room." There is no way to explain it other than my mind deciding to be independent of me, agreeing to him without my consent.

He brightens considerably at my response, unaware that I willingly agreed. "Thank you."

A heavy sigh escapes between my teeth the second Four turns on his heels towards his initiate torture room.

"So backtrack, what do you mean by _'I work in intelligence'_?" is the first thing I say after entering the vacant initiate training room. The walk here was silent, mainly because I was mulling over my thoughts of planning out the rest of the days before work starts.

This time, he hesitates, and he hesitates a lot. "It means... that I work in the control room." He hesitates a while longer while I blankly wait for him to elaborate. "I'm in charge of the cameras around the compound." He finishes tersely.

Much to his benefit, his hesitation prepared me for the worse. So, much to his surprise, I didn't explode as any normal person would've. "So you've been stalking me." My eyebrow lifts.

Four's eyes widen; whether due to my lack of outburst or my accusation I'm not sure. "Of course not, I wouldn't invade your privacy!" For some reason, he seems shocked at my _logically _drawn conclusions.

My eyebrows flatten into a straight line. "And yet, here you are."

"I had to talk to you."

"About?"

"What I said the other day. I'm sorry."

Four apologizing was not something I would've ever imagined – other than him frightening me. In all honestly, I thought that he would've just avoided the subject and pretend it never happened. But hearing it now… it is kind of nice.

My mouth is dry and I'm not sure what to say now that he had completely thrown me off course. "Okay." I'm not particularly mad at Four anymore – if you excuse the part where he frightened me. In fact, I'm not sure why I was mad in the first place. Four is Four, and Four will always be the _uncalled_, righteous friend. It was foolish of me to expect otherwise really.

He probably interpreted my curt response as me brushing him off, because the next thing he does is try to persuade me of his genuineness. "I'm serious. I know what I said is harsh and I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings. I shouldn't have said what I said."

"I know. It's fine really, I forgive you. You were just looking out for me and I appreciate that. I'm sorry I blew up too." Not that I'll admit to anyone – except to myself in my mind – but Amity's forgiving nature has rubbed off me more than I wished it did.

"It's alright. I deserved it anyway." A small smile appears on his lips. "Thank you."

I smile back far less gratefully. "Thanks for looking out for me."

The moment we lapse into silence, I suddenly remember my dogs. I hope they haven't ruined anything or ransacked the fridge. Feeling a slight panic arising, I say "I need to head back, I think I left my dogs alone too long."

Four's face considerably brightened. "I saw them on the cameras. Technically, Zeke saw them, and it was quite the event. Can I meet them?"

Never took Four as one to like dogs. "Sure." He seemed surprised at how quickly I was walking out of the training room. Trapping the dogs alone in a new place is a recipe for disaster, especially if you have three who are too smart for their own good. "What did they think about them?" I ask absentmindedly.

"Mixed reactions I guess? But most were wondering how you've been permitted to bring them over. So, how did you do it?"

I shrug as hastily we pass the chasm. "I just asked Max and gave him the details on how everything would work. Just needed to convince him how they would be a helpful set of paws to have around here." Looking back, I'm genuinely shocked that Max agreed to it, even after telling him that they make excellent messengers. I know, I know, it was slightly mean of me to assume Max was a lazy sloth; however, judging by how he agreed to my proposal, I'm not wrong. Then there's the possibility that perhaps Jeanine said a few words to help him finalized the decision. Who knows how close those two are.

Four seems pretty perplexed by the whole situation. "But don't the rest of Dauntless leadership have to agree as well?"

"They do. I guess it helps that they kinda saw them in the fear landscape? They do know what the dogs look like, so it wasn't like they agreed blindly I guess. And also-" I stop myself, thoughts shifting.

There_ is_ another factor that played in which resulted in that agreement. But should I tell Four though? Especially if it's about the person he hates the most?

"And what?" he asks.

I suppose it would put Eric in a better light. "I think Eric… might have… advocated for me."

He gives me a skeptical side glance. "What makes you think that?"

Good question. Eric never mentioned that he promoted my cause like the salesmen at the Hub, only breaking the news to me the other day. Then again, Eric tends to do things without wanting recognition. "Just a gut feeling." I highly doubt that Max was the only one who brought the case up, considering that he would've looked like a fool in front of four other people.

"When did he get to know of the dogs?" he asks.

Another good question. I'm not sure when he starting watching us at the fence. It could be a day, months, or even a year.

If I tell Four a lie by saying he learn about them during initiation through my word of mouth, there's no doubt he will give me his judgemental look. So I reply with, "He met them in person, actually."

Though he doesn't show it, I can tell he's in disbelief when he splutters: "When?"

"One of the days during stage 2. He brought me back to Amity, something about a deal with Johanna." An embarrassing day, that was; specifically, the part where I freaked out and attacked him.

He only stares at me skeptically again. "And he agreed to the deal."

We are almost at my apartment now. "I guess he was desperate for her to agree on something."

Four doesn't say anything in reply, but I'm pretty sure we are thinking of the same thing: Eric's never desperate.

* * *

Sabre offered Pinky to Four.

It is odd, seeing Sabre hand out his toy like it's a freebie, as he doesn't bond with people at all – except me and my family. The silver coat Belgian Malinois is rarely seen to voluntarily socialize unless he's delivering messages – he gets a treat for that. I did some research during the early days of the dogs, trying to figure out why Sabre and Hawk were so different in personalities despite being the same breed. Dad suggested that it was because Sabre is twenty percent Eurasian wolf, whose personalities are a far cry from domesticated dogs. However, while Gunner is mildly aloof, Sabre is not. He's friendlier towards new people than the German Shepherd; though, Sabre is more likely to snap whenever he feels any of his family or pack – Dad describes it as a wolfdog tendency – is even slightly threatened.

Raising them at Amity has its perks, their early years were spent meeting new _harmless_ people to socially gain exposure. But of course, you can never fully 'eradicate' a dog's trait.

Which is why today is such an odd experience for me, despite my decent job of getting them socialized. I'm assuming that Sabre offering Pinky is a sign of acceptance into his friend circle, hopefully not so much his 'pack'. It took me a while to grasp the 'pack mentality' Dad was explaining to me, as I didn't notice his tendencies about it until I watched a few videos about it a year back and saw the similarities.

A snout squeezes it way under my arm as the dog of subject peers up curiously to me, neck wedged between my side and bicep. "Hello. Are you done sniffing around already?"

The dog only whines and pushes into me more, making the hand holding my wrist slip off as my shoulder forcefully lifts. Then he edges his snout to my face and I immediately reel back. "Okay, okay, I'm up. Gosh."

Sabre pants in excitement as I sluggishly drag myself off the forest floor. He begins trotting off to the trees with his tail up in the air, looking over his shoulder to make sure I was following him.

We were just a small walk from the loading bay earlier. Four did recommend me another exit which has a denser and slightly larger forest, but I decided to bring the dogs back here so they can quickly familiarize the route and come independently to do their business. Veronica reassured me that the entrance of the transport place will always be left open till eight at night, which is after the last shipments and trucks arrive back. I can work with that.

Traveling four hours just to bring the dogs here and entertaining my friends has zapped the energy out of me. If I was back in the Amity fields, I would've passed out the moment I reached the vast grassland. However, with the forest filled with insects, leaves, and dirt, all I can do is sit and wait for my canines.

Sabre didn't have a valid reason as to why he dragged me out of my passive resting mode. I suspected that he didn't want to keep me out of his line of sight as he explored the small area of trees.

Hawk and surprisingly, Gunner, have left my side the moment I slipped off their gear, leaving me behind as they inspect their new play area.

Though Gunner did come back every few minutes to check if I was still alive and well, it was Sabre who never left my line of sight.

My phone pings as I watch Sabre taking a crap next to a tree. Eric is texting me again.

_Where are you? Still stuck in the office._

A small smile spreads across my face. _Out with my dogs. Why?_

Gunner trots up to me, he seems to be in a very good mood now. Good enough to do zoomies – of which they sprint around for no reason – with Sabre, apparently.

_Any plans tonight?_

Hawk appears beside me, demanding for pets. _I think I'll take them out to the Pit later, introduce them to a bigger crowd. _I did think about just screwing it and calling it a day, but I figured getting this out of the way would make tomorrow much easier once I introduce them to different areas around Dauntless.

Hawk nudges me impatiently again while I'm petting his head. He's pointing at the frisbee with his snout and I give him a flat look. _Dinner?_

_Not sure yet, probably make something simple, but it'll be late. _Dinner hadn't crossed my mind at all since Skylar mentioned it earlier. I'll just stop by the grocer alone later. I'm not too keen on leaving my dogs for long periods just yet to have a meal outside like earlier.

The other two dogs knock poor Hawk off course the moment they saw the flying soft frisbee. Sabre gets to it first and hightails towards me, fur flopping in the air with the rest chasing after him.

When Eric doesn't reply to me, I continue a few more rounds with the dogs. At one point, Hawk does manage to snag the frisbee, but that's only because Sabre grew bored and found the ground around me more interesting.

* * *

"What do you think of these?" I point at the chilled oxtail then gesture to Hawk with a nod of my head. We are at the grocers currently. I had decided earlier that I was only going to bring Hawk out to the Pit with me, seeing that he would make the best first impression among the members. "Or do you prefer chicken?" My dog tilts his head and juts his nose towards where I'm pointing. It's awfully quiet today at the grocery store, that or no one comes here since there's always free food at the mess hall.

Barely a second passes when all of a sudden, he stops sniffing and pivots to the left, causing me to look down at him in confusion. Much to my uttermost dismay, the confusion doesn't last long.

"So, what did you do to get them here? Suck his cock?" an unwelcomed male's voice enters my ears. My entire body tenses momentarily as I recognize the voice. The lewd wimpy initiate has been non-existent to me until now.

My hand unknowingly clenches onto Hawk's leash and his left ear flickers in response. "Don't you have other things to do?" I don't turn to him as I speak, choosing to ignore him and continue comparing the prices and quality of the meats.

Gone is the curious puppy moments ago, the trained canine has his tail up and ears perked. He looks between us as we speak and walks backward to stay pressed by my side while I move down the aisle.

"Got a problem with me asking a question _everyone _has been dying to know? You should know that word spreads quickly when you're whoring around with your instructor."

When I don't say anything, he continues. "What? Did you honestly think that _anyone_ would believe that you haven't done anything sexual with him? Because we all know that's a lie." I should defend myself, yet I don't see how it would change anything. Honestly, I'm more exhausted by the day's events than anything. However, I am worried things might escalate if Mark tries anything.

Forcing myself to relax despite the pounding blood in my head, I peer at the accuser with the fakest smile on my face. "Honestly, I don't care what you think. What I'm more interested in though, is whether you'll have enough guts to say it when my other two dogs are here." From my peripheral, I recognize one of his goon friends a few aisles away angle himself to me. "Are you afraid of them? Is that why you only stepped out of the shadows when there's only one?" I turn to Hawk and coo, "isn't that right boy? Aren't you all very scary for the big bad Dauntless?"

Hawk, hearing my change in voice, wags his tail and gives me a lick on my face when I bend down. But that moment of affection in him drops the second I straighten back up. We probably look menacing towards the wimpy new Dauntless graduate, seeing that he hasn't moved a muscle since Hawk detected him.

Satisfied that I've managed to discombobulated Mark and run him to a loss for words, I resume back to my leisurely grocery trip. Hawk doesn't keep his eyes off the man even after I plop a few chicken carcasses into the basket.

I almost thought he left us alone until I heard: "Listen here you little-"

"Mark Stain," Eric's rich booming voice abruptly cuts him off. "Second _last_ ranked initiate of the batch and on fence duty," he mocks cruelly. I crane my neck towards Mark and sure enough, Eric Coulter is standing right behind him. The accuser has paled considerably from his fuming red face a minute ago. "Is there a problem here?"

The man only cowers and shrinks into himself, shaking his head with a bit too much enthusiasm. "No sir."

A moment of silence passes and I swear I can see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's head. When the Dauntless leader suddenly speaks up again, Mark winces. "Alright then. Carry on." Confused, the man looks up to his superior, which only earned him a raised eyebrow. Mark takes it as his lucky day and doesn't waste another second scurrying past me, earning a growl from Hawk.

For Mark to think he was let off unscathed, he must be pretty dense, because before he could turn off, Eric speaks again. "Oh, and by the way, your shift starts first thing in the morning." Mark pauses ever so slightly at the news. "Get packing."

Unlike when he snapped like a whip earlier, Eric takes his time to close the distance between us, the not-so-imminent threat gone. "Anna," he greets professionally.

"Eric."

He then proceeds to do a one-eighty, his entire demeanor changing. "Hi Hawk. Taking care of my girl I see?" his white teeth visible as he gives the wagging dog a grateful pat.

My brows knit together, thrown off. "Since when were you friends with my dogs?"

He scoffs at me and shoots me a smug smirk. "What? Too unbelievable? Who do you think makes trips to Amity around here?"

I can only gape at him like a fish as he unhooks the shopping basket from my arm. He's been befriending my dogs throughout initiation?

My head drags out of its dazed state when I spot Eric tossing in a pack of instant coffee. I face Hawk and grumble in a voice that only the dog hears, "how dare you withheld such information from me? I thought you guys hated him." The fawn dog only tilts his head in response.

Next, I turn to the stalker. For all I know, he and the dog could be secretly conspiring together. "And you! How do you know I'm here?" I stroll up to him with accusing eyes while he indifferently reads the label on some pasta.

He shrugs and tosses the pasta into the basket, "I didn't. Just ran low on groceries."

My pupils narrow. "Then get your own basket." Not the best thing to say to your rescuer, but it wasn't like I needed rescuing in the first place. I would like to believe I did a pretty good job back there.

"I did."

I throw my hands up in disbelief. "That's mine."

He thinks about it for a moment, eyes darting to the side before returning to me with a cheeky smile. "Not anymore."

Unbelievable. "I have points!"

"And I have more," he points out monotonously.

I groan and give up, walking ahead to the baking section. Maybe I could make some peanut butter treats for the pups. After all, my apartment does have some beautiful kitchen appliances.

"A thank you gift?" Eric asks as I transfer the goods into the almost-full basket.

My hands go to my hips as I stare at the ton of food in the basket. Since when did one man need this much food to survive? "No. I'm baking for the dogs."

Eric double-takes and blinks at me incredulously. "Are you being sarcastic?"

"No…?" The idea of me making things for my dogs isn't that far-fetched... doesn't Erudite have dogs too?

He stares at me for a few more seconds before settling with a 'hmm'.

The cashier gapes at us with wide eyes. So, Mark had been lying when he said 'everyone' knew about us. It's an amusing sight, with her both eyes having a cycle of jumping between me, Eric and Hawk while still being able to effectively scan the items.

"Should I dock off half of his points for three months, six months, or a year?"

My brows knit together and I face him, "Who?"

"Mark," he pauses to think and rubs his jaw thoughtfully, "and maybe his sidekick. He was there as a backup."

"What!" The cashier jolts at my relatively calm outburst. "You're already cutting short his break."

"You didn't deserve to be treated like that," he replies simply.

"You were there the entire time?" I question.

He glares at the nosy cashier, forcing her to snap her attention back to the computer. "No, but I have an idea of what he said. Forget our relationship, you're still a leader-in-training. So you do demand a higher level of respect than normal." He then proceeds to mumble incoherently to himself.

"Two weeks," I say, grabbing ahold onto some of the paper bags on the counter. "That's a good enough warning."

"That's nothing!" he argues, pulling the remaining bags into his broad arms while scowling

"Well, he earns nothing." I point out. Fence duty must be the lowest-ranked jobs around here.

Then he does something I've never seen before; Eric rolls his eyes. "That's beside the point." He contemplates for a moment. "Six months," he bargains.

That's insane. I highly doubt he and his friend would be able to afford food, much less, clothing. "Two weeks."

"Three months."

And this is why Eric is too brutal in the eyes of many. "Two weeks."

"Two months. Two weeks is honestly too short. He'll only be coming back to the compound… what? Three times during that period."

I blink twice at him. Even without the point dock, it already sounds pretty horrid to be in his place. "Three weeks."

"One month."

I stare at him long. I know I shouldn't be pushing my luck, especially since he's making an effort to compromise. Plus, this decision doesn't affect me at all, so I don't know why I'm squabbling over it.

The moment I say 'fine', he sighs like he's been holding his breath a long time. "Goodness woman!" he exclaims grumpily.

I shoot him a weird look.

"One month. One short fucking month," he grumbles to himself.

"Thank you." It must be incredibly hard for him to agree to such a menial request. But I'll admit, it's kind of funny watching him be 'lenient' - he resembles like a child who just ate a lemon when he does. "I appreciate it."

Eric grunts in response.

* * *

**A/N**

**This chapter was funny to write. Hope you guys had as much fun reading it!**

Was supposed to upload this chapter last night. But was caught up watching The Phantom of the Opera. Least to say, it was good - really good.


	28. 28

Why I'm sitting with Jace and Riley is beyond me.

I'm feeling extremely out of place at the table of my acquaintances. Sitting here in the awkwardness, I can't help but picture myself strangling Skylar for pulling me away when Uriah and his group had invited me earlier.

It must've been her pleading eyes that kept me compliant, or the fact that I didn't want to cause a scene with three flanking beasts.

Today is the second time I've brought them to the mess hall. So far, they're making good progress in creating a good image of themselves - well, Hawk is at least - considering that this is their third day here. The other two are still pretty reserved towards the general population, rarely bothering to greet unfamiliar faces other than the occasional lucky ones.

Which is why these anthropophilic two are sitting between Skylar and me while Hawk faces the walkway.

"Puppy!" Another small toddler runs to the light brown dog, palms stretched out as the dog shuffles forward into the makeshift embrace. Hawk gives the child licks on the cheek as his ears get squished and tugged in return.

Beside me, Skylar practically has eyes shaped as hearts. "Look at them… your dogs are so good with children. Why can't I have one too?" She mutters wistfully, head supported by her propped elbows and cupped hands.

I glance to the blinking boyfriend across her. I'm pretty sure he's in shock at her enchantment; or horrified at the prospect of having a beast like this roam in their apartment. Riley has a similar expression to Zack's, except that she looks ready to bolt the moment Hawk just so much as glances at her. Jace on the other hand, is intrigued by my dog, his focus trained on the interaction between toddler and canine.

My lips purse in hope. Any moment now, the mother will magically appear.

"What's his name again?" Jace asks from across me.

My attention flickers to him before I turn back to the knife and apple in my hand. "This one's-"

The toddler's squealing cuts of my train of thought. "Two puppies!" I drop the apple onto my tray and place the knife down, eyes widening as I feel a being push against my jutting back.

I am too late. The toddler has his hands on Sabre now, squishing his face as his piercing squeals intensifies. My wolfdog has his ears flattened back as he gives the deranged child a timid lick on his wormy fat hands. I cringe as Gunner panickily scrabbles under the bench and table; the high-pitched giggles and invasive presence disturbing his peace of eating premium apple slices.

_Belatedly_, the expected female voice appears. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" It's about time. "John! Don't disturb other people!"

My ears perk. John?

The young mother stops right in front of a wagging Hawk, apprehensively giving him a once-over. She then turns to me sheepishly, "I'm so, so sorry about this."

I give her a falsely polite smile. "No, it's alright. My dogs enjoy the attention." Except that it's not plural, it's singular; I don't say that aloud.

"Look! Look! Puppy!" The toddler wobbles back to his mother, using Hawk as balance once he passes between the narrow benches.

"Yes, I see it." The mother says, placing her hands on either side of the toddler so she can carry him away.

The toddler immediately wriggles away and grabs the hand closest to Hawk, shoving it until she touches his fur. "Touch! Puppy!" The mother placates her child and pets Hawk like he's not-so-expertly showing her.

After she's gotten ahold of him, she continues to apologize to me. Of which each time I politely reassure her that it's fine.

This cycle has happened around three times within this hour alone, not including all the times I've been stopped to get to the mess hall. The attention has yet to die down with the majority of the population taking it upon themselves to inspect and approve of the dogs - as if they had power over me.

Okay, it wasn't as bad as I made it out in my head.

After my run-in with Mark, I received a text the following morning from 'Dauntless Leadership' informing me of the arrival of the dogs. Skylar said that this was a faction-wide broadcast, which practically shoved me to an even brighter spotlight.

From that moment on, fatigue had increased ten-fold with no signs of decreasing. Don't get me wrong, most of my encounters with people were positive. I have a tiny suspicion that my run-in with Mark had spread like wildfire, which would explain why everyone I've met had been so friendly.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Skylar asks beside me. Her voice has returned from its girlish episode of dreaminess.

Passing an apple slice to Hawk, I reply, "I'll continue Sabre's training for picking their food and getting the dogs to familiarize the compound." I want to get them off-leash as soon as the run-ins with people die down. Work also starts tomorrow, which means I don't have much time left.

* * *

'Ding!' The metal doors slide open and Gunner trots out. "Hey baby boy," I coo. A wide smile spreads across my face and I crouch down, giving the dog a scratch under the chin while he drops the ball onto my awaiting palm. Gunner sticks his tongue out at my grin. Plopping the peanut butter treat into his mouth, I continue, "Aren't you just a smart baby? Such a cutie."

The dog – expectedly – doesn't reply, crunching the treat while I turn to Sabre, "your turn Sabre."

Sabre shakes to adjust his loaded vest. I've added more weight to his than the other two, letting him get used to navigating and being in situations where he'll have to climb. So far, the bag of apples has yet to detach from the straps holding them.

My silver dog stands on his hind legs to press the lift button then hops back down, tail wagging he waited for the doors to close. Gunner nudges the ball in my hand, waiting for me to throw it.

We've been doing this for the past three days now, with now being the first time the dogs try out independently. The task is simple: take the elevator up, grab a toy at my new office, and come back down. I walked them through the processes of using the elevator, which only consisted of pressing the call buttons and either G or 3.

The digital display over the elevator shows 3, indicating that the last dog had pressed the right button. I haven't brought them to the 1st and 2nd floor, deciding that I will do it when the need to visit human resources arises.

The elevator dings and before I can lift my head from the ball Gunner has once again retrieved, a male voice muses, "You know, I thought he was lost; until he pushed the button I was to reaching for." Max strolls out behind Sabre, who's holding a length of thick knotted rope. "Remarkable creatures. Aren't they?"

My hand moves to scratch Sabre's chin before passing him his well-deserved treat. "They are. Thanks again for allowing them to come over," I smile politely.

"It's no problem. It's a pleasure to have them here." Max crouches down to an approaching Hawk, examining the canine. "How long did it take for you to train that?"

"Maybe seven sessions? I try to keep each session short, so they won't grow bored quickly." Training them on this was awkward at times, specifically when there's another passenger.

Max hums in response, probing the vest on Hawk. "These… clothing… will they be used for transporting documents?"

As much as I know I shouldn't, I can't help the tiny flash of irritation that courses through me. Max's only concern is how the dogs will benefit him. "Yep. There are attachable compartments for the sizes you need." I take a long calming breath. To be fair, I did agree to the terms.

And to add salt to the wound, it was I who suggested it too.

"Hawk and Sabre will be the ones transporting items. I'm still working on familiarizing the routes for them, so that may take a few more days. For now, they only know how to get to the mess hall and loading bay." Hawk trots off once Max lets go of him, distracted by something I wasn't paying attention to.

He looks up and examines Gunner warily. "And this will be the one transporting shipments?" he asks, unconvinced that my extremely capable canine could pull a large enough load that would contend a member's.

I thickly swallow his much-deserved sneer. "Yep. I've spoken to Veronica about it already." Well Liam, technically.

Since food shipments come during the morning, Liam and I agreed that Gunner will only be there the latest by lunch. Liam didn't hesitate this time when I brought the topic back up with Gunner by my side. His eagerness gave me the slightest inkling that perhaps having my magnificent child flank him boasted his image ten-fold. But of course, I would never know the truth.

Max is surprised that she agreed, a conceited grin appearing upon his face. "I'm glad to hear so. Didn't think she would've," he muses.

Doubtful.

Veronica was one of the few who were genuinely supportive of the dogs, even though she did not show it as outwardly as others have.

"I had Eric put in a word for you, you know?" he adds unnecessarily; cockily.

If Max continues with his self-proclamations about how my dogs are only here because of him, I'll snap. "Really? Thanks so much," I politely spit out. Although all Max did was to give me the initial green light, it is my responsibility that they remain here.

It wasn't until I felt something cool and wet nudge my clench fist did I realized how worked-up I was getting. Gunner had sidled up to me, no doubt when he saw me tensed.

"Well then, I better get going," the Dauntless leader cheerfully says, completely unaware of how he had thrown my mood off a cliff. "Do train them quick, I would like to see them in action," he says light-heartedly.

Gunner pushes past my hand, causing it to run down his neck and to his back. Drawing a _hopefully_ unnoticeable deep breath, I smiled again at my leader, wishing him a good day despite him not reciprocating it.

"Isn't he lovely?" is the first thing I snarled to Gunner once the tattooed man was out of earshot. "Do train them quick, I would like to see them in action. I had Eric put in a word you know," I mock in a falsely high voice. "Who does he even think he is? Amirite boy?"

Gunner doesn't reply, only staring and pawing my bent knee in worry.

I take that as an agreement.

"Come on, we're done here today." Maybe I could bring them back to the control room today, Four's co-workers seemed pretty taken by the dogs; wouldn't hurt to pay a visit. "Sabre," I call, frustration quickly residing in the presence of my furkids. "You wanna go see Four?"

The wolfdog, hearing Four's name – or more likely, his own – came trotting up to me, not before picking up the knotted rope he dumped in the middle of the hallway. He's oblivious to the exchange earlier, possibly high on the peanut butter I gave him.

Just as I'm about to leave, I realize one of my dogs is missing. But even before I can call out his name, the elevator behind me chimes, causing an amused smile dance across my face. Of course, he would like to go for another round for fun, typical Hawk.

I'm about to call my fawn pup over when an ear-piercing screech of 'YOU!' tosses my slowly recovering mood back into the deepest lake in Amity.

* * *

There are moments in time where I wonder who were the dogs in the room, the three animals beside me, or the crazed workers hurtling towards us.

I fail to relate to the palpable excitement rolling off the grown adults as they screamed 'THE DOGS ARE BACK!', mainly because I had the most unfortunate run-in with probably the person who most despises my children to date: the Old Hag.

Hawk had groveled out of the elevator, ears flat and tail tucked as a lady I vaguely recognize came stomping out, demanding I tell her why I allowed my dog to run off on its own. My poor boy was probably scared to death during his short period of being stuck with Old Hag; I could tell by the way he crawled to Sabre for comfort, who immediately began performing a thorough sniff examination on his brother.

The Old Hag – that to be frank, isn't _physically_ in the category of 'old' – saw that Hawk and I had back-up, resulting in her begrudgingly swallowing her reprimanding shouts into a sneer. I had wished for her to come up to my face, threaten me, caw all her complaints she had about my dogs, but much to my dismay, she didn't. All she did was shoot me a baleful glare, held her nose high, and high-tailed past us.

For some innate reason, that worried me, for I knew there was more to come.

I wasn't even sure who she was, much less where I've seen her from. The Old Hag had dark hair, a crooked nose, and a ton of odd ear piercings to match. Were she not shouting at me like a cranky grandma, I would've even considered her as hospitable.

"LOOK AT THE BEAST!" Zeke has Gunner's face in his hands, wriggling like a child who was just told he could skip school.

The first thought that went through my mind – except the fact that I can't relate – is that he reminds me a lot like Skylar. Though now that I'm watching, most of the people in the control room reminded me of her. Most of the seats are now empty. Mostly everyone is circling us, either giving my dogs pets and scratches or peering curiously at the dogs like they're animals in from those pre-Great War zoos. The excitement radiating off the staff is contagious, so much so that even Sabre is wagging his tail from all the attention he's getting.

Sadly, as always, the dogs' welcoming party doesn't last long.

"Okay people," a party pooper bellows light-heartedly, "please remember that we still have a city to watch." Groans rise all around me.

Lauren stands with her hands on her hips while the crowd sluggishly dissipates, her lips pulled to one side in as she stares at the scene in amusement. I pray that she doesn't say anything that would set me off, seeing that I'm already barely holding on.

"Hey Anna, could I steal your dog while you're here?" my chase-tag teammate asks me, his hands clasped together as he attempts at what I assume are puppy eyes. "Pretty pleaseeeee?"

The moment Zeke first cast his eyes on Gunner was the deciding moment that the dog was his favorite. He was pretty vocal about it too, snapping at everyone who voiced otherwise. The Lion's leader liked the fact that Gunner looks 'badass' and didn't immediately come to greet him like Hawk did, finding great joy when the dog gave him permission to pet - he didn't. I don't mention that Gunner would've let anyone else done the same, begrudgingly.

"That's it!" Zeke had exclaimed over the lunch table yesterday, "We're changing Lions to Gunners, with this bad boy as our mascot!" He's reading Gunner's name off the collar, in disbelief that he's magnificently called that.

Lynn had cringed at the announcement, going back to her food while Uriah jumped to squabble with his brother. Four, on the other hand, pointed to Sabre beside him and said, "Sabres is a better name, sure you didn't introduce him?"

Wasn't exactly the response I expected from everyone. "Alright, no one's going change the team's _renowned_ name to my dogs," I had stated authoritatively over the heated bickering. "Four just told me that teams can't change names anyway."

Uriah moaned then, his mouth curving downwards like a baby. Unlike his brother, Zeke only slyly replied, "Not officially, but we could ingrain it into the people's brains that it becomes unofficially official."

He left me stupefied then.

"Of course," I hand him Gunner's leash, "you can even release him if your superior doesn't mind."

Zeke holds the leash and gazes it in awe. The way he stared makes it seem like I've just given him the keys to the biggest apartment in Dauntless, not, a measly piece of rope. "Really?" he asks breathlessly, "I can do that?" Then he turns to an alarmed Gunner, "you hear that boy? You can roam around here for free!"

I refrain from stating that in time, they will all be able to roam freely. "Just ask your superior," I warn lightly, feeling that he may just unleash Gunner because of how empowered he feels.

Zeke lifts his head back up, whispering 'I will' like he just accepted a quest to save a princess from the dragon. "I won't let you down."

With that, he puffs his chest and marches over to a man who's flicking through his tablet, Gunner hesitatingly following. I don't miss the look of utter betrayal from my velcro dog.

"You okay?" Four asks beside me, looking concerned while I shoot the pair weird looks.

"Yeah, I am." Zeke excitedly waves over to me, giving me a thumbs up and points to my other two dogs as the man goes back to his tablet. Shooting Zeke a half-hearted smile, I crouch to snap off the leashes. "Why?"

Sabre walks up to Four, greeting him with a wolfish grin. "You came in looking pretty upset," he replies pointedly, patting Sabre on the head in greeting.

"Is that so…" I drawl, mind flashing to the time when he stalked me just so he could reconcile. When he doesn't react or take the bait, I continue. "Nice of you to notice," I comment coolly, "I had a bad run-in with some people earlier."

I half expected him to say 'yeah, I saw', but he didn't. Instead, he tilts his head slightly from his bent back, puzzled. "About the dogs?" he asks, straightening himself.

"Yeah," I reply and chuckle wryly, "but haters gotta hate, am I right?"

Four doesn't reply, not in a way that it looked like he didn't agree. Based on the furrow of his brows, it leaned more toward like he didn't seem to get the idiom. "Well, I guess they do," he tests slowly, wiping his hands on his black jeans. Then he looks back to Sabre, "What's this?"

He's pointed at the small container attached to Sabre's vest. It's the box of treats I'd made for when they start work. We collected it during the detoured back to the apartment for me to remove Sabre's load. "Oh, that's to be left here," I say, "for when the dogs come bringing documents or items." I wave Sabre over and unclip the container of small bone-shaped biscuits, passing it to Four.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, Four pulls off the lid to sniff the goods he's never going to consume. Eyebrows fly up as the smell of peanut butter hits his senses. "These smell good."

I shoot him an unamused look as to say, _well duh, I made them. _"They smell better than they taste, to be honest." I can attest to that.

I scan the large room for my poor Gunner, surprised to see he's busy staring attentively at a screen. He has his forelegs on the table, propping his already tall self to watch the uneventful scene of a street. Zeke's large arm around the canine's back, trapping and explaining animatedly to a being who doesn't understand a word he's saying.

Hawk had trotted off after I removed the leash, greeting Lauren who - thankfully - seemed pleased to see a friendly face. After he was satisfied with the number of scratches he'd receive, he daringly proceeds to the man with the tablet. The man, who's glancing curiously at the dog, wears a loose black short sleeve against his lean body. From afar, I vaguely recognize him from somewhere. The block tattoos around his forearm that resembles Eric's neck ones suggests that he's probably one of the leaders, except that I didn't have the slightest idea who he is.

"Who's that?" I nod towards the direction of the man. Hawk had left after the man didn't give him enough attention. The leader's hair has kept its natural color, tousled but not in a way that's messy. His neck is bent unhealthily as he frowns at the screen of his tablet, lips moving minutely like he's talking to it.

Four cranes his head and leans forward, blocking my view of his side profile. Instead of replying, he turns to me quizzically, a look saying 'shouldn't you know your leaders considering that you're starting work tomorrow?'. It's only when I blink does he shake it off and reply. "That is Kyle. He's in charge of weapons and the city's security. You can usually find him here if he's not down at the weapons hall," he pauses, unsure, "Didn't Eric introduce them to you?"

I shrug, "Nope. But he's probably in my contacts somewhere." Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts. "There," I point at his caller profile, "saved as DL Kyle – Weapons & Security." Imagine if Eric went over the top and attached a picture to each one too.

Four squints at the small screen, eyebrows knitting together. "How do you already have so many contacts already?"

Something mixed between a groan and whine enters my ears. Hawk has been moving from computer to computer, wanting in on what everyone is doing. Since he arrived here, this is the first time I'm seeing the curious side of him returning. A woman with dark blue hair who's now accommodating him childishly sticks out her tongue at her pouting co-worker. Hawk could care less though, judging how he's focused on the uneventful screen of another abandoned street. Once he realizes that nothing interesting is happening, he abandons the woman for the next person on the left.

"Oh, Eric filled in the contacts for me when he got me the phone," I reply him absentmindedly, "sweet of him to do so."

Sabre pads near us, sniffing boxes that have been propped against the wall. My mind drifts with nothing to do. Ever since we've been officially reunited, Sabre rarely lets me leave his sight, his neediness contending with Gunner's. It had gotten to the extent that he would wait outside the toilet, whining when I take longer than a few minutes. I suspect that the period of separation had caused him emotional trauma, even after the peace-serum administered. It'll take time. I pray this phase won't last long.

It's been four days since the dogs moved in. From a bird's eye view, I can safely say my dogs have been settling well into their new life here in Dauntless. Now, most of my nights have been spent in my apartment, either brushing their fur or lazing around with them. It is nice, the peace and quiet of doing nothing but watch movies while snuggling up with three fur beds. I was momentarily stuck when it slipped my mind that the dogs needed a final bladder release at night – the loading bay had closed – but I managed to find a stairway leading down to the chasm. I sincerely hope no one spends their time down there, for my dogs have claimed that spot as theirs.

As much as I would like to live in a bubble with my dogs, work starts tomorrow. I'll be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. Luckily, Hawk and Sabre will be with me, until they're perfectly confident to navigate by themselves to deliver items. With less than twenty-four hours to work, I'm still unsure of what tomorrow's agenda is, except that there's a general meeting with leadership first thing in the morning. Eric had told me to relax – I don't know how he could tell I was panicking inside, maybe the way Hawk was yapping worriedly when my heartbeat picked up – and stated that it was just a mandatory meeting they have at the start of each week. It didn't anything to ease my worry.

Four takes a while to reply, so when he finally does, I've completely forgotten what we're talking about. "It's almost as if he's changing," Four mutters. He sounds like he's mumbling to himself, but I respond anyway.

"Who?" I ask, peering past him. Kyle still has his neck craned down to his tablet. He doesn't seem to have changed at all.

Four follows my line of vision before glancing at me, puzzled. "Eric...? Is he here?"

Oh right, Eric, phone contacts. Right. "No, was lost for a second. I guess he is… changing," I say the word hesitantly. Unlike Four, I don't believe Eric has been changing. Sure, he's treating me differently, but that doesn't mean it applies in every aspect of his life.

My mind drifts to the scene with Mark. Some would argue that Eric has changed, seeing that he's lightened Mark's superfluous punishment. But had Eric not asked for my opinion, Mark would've suffered in mild poverty for half a year unbeknownst to me. Mark didn't deserve that, especially when it's over a reckless mistake that wasn't thought through.

Yet, what frightens me the most isn't Eric's brutality. Rather, it's the nagging feeling that I do not know the full extent of his ways – on purpose. With his countless sweet acts already occurring in the shadows, what more the acts he deliberately keeps from me? The thought buries into the back of my mind.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hi. So laptop went buggy, hence me going MIA for a month. Took a while to get it fixed and it traveled across the country. But it's working now :D ****I miss my baby so much (literally just got it back fully functioning today) **** Thanks so much for your patience!**

**On the bright side, I did manage to continue writing. (Couldn't upload because it wasn't my laptop and I had to download sketchy stuff to get on this website :') ) Still thinking on how to upload 29 and 30, because I dislike 29.**


	29. 29

The next morning, my first official morning as an apprentice, found me in the middle of a one-sided crossfire that was quickly becoming ugly.

Turns out, I do know who the Old Hag is. Staring blankly at her distorted face now, I should've known that the woman was no other than Jessica – the only leader among the five who seem to have reservations on the dogs' settlement. For Eric to politely point her out to me the night he gave me the phone makes me severely doubt that the meeting regarding the dogs went as smoothly as he described.

And the situation now only proves it.

My eyes flit down to the two black porcelain mugs of steaming coffee on the table in front of me. Eric had made them for us, saying how meetings are usually a drain and bore. Oh, how I wished he was right.

"I already have five complaints from human resource!" the old hag yells hysterically, papers waving erratically in the air. "How could you not see the nuisance the dogs are causing! Disrupting all our lives!"

Beside me, Veronica mutters under her breath, "Huh, I was expecting twenty at least." I'm not sure what to make of that.

It had been a good morning – until it wasn't. Woke up with two hours to spare, took the dogs to the mini forest so they could go to the toilet and exercise, brought them back to the apartment for breakfast, collected the dog beds for the office, send Gunner off for his first day of work, stopped by Eric halfway, walked to the office together. He had insistedto carry the dog beds, forcing me to swap the bulky items for an unopened packet of instant coffee he brought for the pantry. I tried pointing out how weak I look, but he merely rolled his eyes and continued walking.

I was in an excellent mood, albeit nervous on my first day. Everything was falling into place; the dogs can independently navigate their way around the main parts Dauntless, the general population appears to be accepting of them, children aren't afraid of the dogs and Four has agreed to try training them today. The only thing that could make it better would be for Hawk and Sabre to start their complimentary delivery services.

After we dropped off the beds and had the dogs stay at the office for the duration of the meeting, we made a detour to the floor's pantry. I wasn't a fan of coffee, but Eric assured me that he would drink it if I ended up not 'needing' it. He gave me a brief rundown on what typically happens each day, telling me how we will be visiting all the factions at least every other week, as well as our faction's leaders and their names. While I knew Kyle's and Veronica's roles already, I learned that Jessica's in charge of the faction's wellbeing and buildings. She is the one who's being replaced with either me or Cole. When I asked Eric why – as I don't recall seeing an elderly leader - he only provided the terse answer of 'age'.

And he wasn't wrong.

The old hag started hacking away the millisecond her eye laid upon me as I walked through the door with Eric at my heels. If I had to describe her in two words, it would be 'rabid dog'. In a flash, her face had twisted into a sickening scowl that made me flinch, the words spewing from her mouth enough to wake everyone at the table. Their backs had humorously shot straight up as their eyes widened, darting between me and the respected retiring witch in alarm.

Eric's previous grin had completely evaporated by the time we've settled into the blank vinyl seats. On _any_ other day, I would've commented on how these chairs were by far the most comfortable I've sat on, pointing out that's probably why people tend to nod off. I would've gone as dumb as to compliment the inanimate table too, since I was in such a good mood.

Alas, today is not any other day.

From my peripheral, the vein on Eric's forehead is already pulsing, blood rushing to his face like boiling kettle. Jaw clenched as he glares at the leader, no doubt a ticking bomb. Belatedly, Kyle rises from his seat next to Jessica's, cautiously placing his hand on the accusing arm that's directed towards me. "Calm down Jes-"

"Don't touch me!" she shrieks, causing him to wince at the amplitude and pitch. "Just you wait! Soon there will be an uproar among the members! Then what! There will be a split among us! Will you still protect her, Eric? How blinded are you? Can't you see how she's just using you!" she snarls viciously. I blink once, completely lost on how she has drawn up such a stupidly drastic conclusion.

It's obvious by now that logic had abandoned her in her delirium. But even with her delusional state, Eric is having none of it, especially now that her anger had taken a new stage. Faster than Gunner detecting threats – which is extremely fast, by the way – Eric is up from his seat, chair screeching loudly against the stone floor. "How dare you blindly accuse her! Keep your disgustingly wide nose out of our business," he snarls. Now that he's mentioned it, the old hag does have a rather unnaturally wide nose. Veronica chokes on her water, coughing and spluttering beside me. Though his next words are calmer, it still maintains its intensity. "I suggest you watch your tongue before you lose it."

Huh.

I don't doubt that Eric would carry out his creative threat, knowing him, he probably has a knife tucked in his pocket right now. Yet despite the old hag working with him for over a year, she writes it off. Rather than calming down, Jessica pushes him. "Oh yeah? Then watch your whore before-"

A few things happen at once. I notice Eric stretching to the side, hand swiftly moving to the side of his trousers, where a concealed gun waited exposed under his vest. A fist slams, coffee spills out of our cups onto the ebony table. The word 'enough' authoritatively booms between us and the old hag.

My hand instinctively grab Eric's, stopping a moment before his fingertips graze the metal. Unlike where Jessica snapped at Kyle, Eric's gaze flickers down to me questioningly, the clash between control and aggression waging in the depths of his slate-blue eyes.

Instead of shaking my head or pushing his hand away, I did something that even I couldn't explain. My hand digs into the pocket at my calf to pull out a pocket knife, the one he gave during the Amity trip.

Almost instantly, all rage is replaced by confusion. Eric stares at the folded place knife, the arm that was aiming for the gun going limp. He gapes at the knife, transforming from a murderous tyrant to a confused child in a matter of milliseconds. Oblivious to the shouting between Max and Jessica, Eric slowly lowers himself onto the chair, his attention not once diverting from the sleek black metal extended to him.

"You kept it," he states, expression unreadable.

Now it's my turn to be confused. My head tilts as I retract my hand to examine the clean metal, "Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?" I had forgotten to return it on that day, keeping it with me in hopes I would remember – I never do.

He blinks at me then casts his eyes to the ground, mumbling words I failed to catch over the clamorous arguing. For a few moments, it seemed like he was possessed, lips moving incoherently with eyes unseeing.

I assume he wants me to keep it, judging by how he's acting all weird, or maybe the weight of it has unhealthily grown on me. Slipping the knife back into my trousers, I lean forward to him in concern. "You okay?"

His gaze snaps back to mine. "Yeah, it's just. I mean…" he trails off distantly, lips pursing as his eyes lower slightly. A second of silence between us pass before he turns away and shakes his head, frowning at himself.

"No, I should be asking you that. Are you alright?" he scans my form like I had been physically assaulted, his classic confident demeanor returning.

Just as I'm about to reply, a bunch of tissues is shoved towards me, courtesy of Veronica. Only when she nods to the stray liquid on the table do I realize what it's for. "Yes, yes. I'm fine," I reply, plucking the tissues from her to wipe the puddles of caffeine.

Eric is skeptical of my answer but doesn't pry, choosing instead to grab the damp tissues from me. My attention returns to the old hag, of which Cole and Kyle are currently escorting out of the room. Max fumes from his seat; in his clenched hands are the papers that Jessica had been wildly flinging in the air. The lines on his forehead deepen as he scans the formal complaints, his grip on them so tight that it's beginning to scrunch up.

After the whole meltdown with Jessica, the rest of the meeting proceeded smoothly. Well, as smooth as it can get after what had boiled over. Max did his best to introduce everyone, explaining how the leaders work together and run the faction. After that, the leaders took turns updating each other on their posts, as well as debating upon arising matters.

These discussions were pretty quiet, with Max being the main driver and Kyle chipping in once in a while. Veronica barely spoke. There isn't a doubt in my mind that Jessica's absence has contributed to the dullness of today's discussions.

Unfortunately, my unplanned tactic of throwing Eric off didn't last long. Despite Jessica no longer being in the room for over an hour, Eric's still brooding beside me. I would've joined his brainstorming session on how to surreptitiously carve out Jessica's tongue if it weren't for the sinking feeling that has been gnawing at me. As much as I hate to admit, what Jessica had said affected me, despite only having listened to half.

Contrary to what others might be thinking, I'm not having the mental breakdown, nor am I silently conspiring like the man beside me. Sitting here, with having nothing to do but dwell on what had just unfolded, I just felt…

Numb.

Nothing of what Max or anyone has been saying was entering my ears, information exiting as quickly as they came. At one point Eric noticed this, because the next thing I knew, my phone buzzes with a text saying 'I'll explain to you later.' Even at that point, I couldn't manage a smile or a 'thanks'; the slight twitch at the corner of my lips being the only indication that I was grateful.

In retrospect, most of what the old hag said weren't valid points. However, she did force a rift between me and the rest of the leaders - one that I did not ask for.

* * *

The meeting had ended uneventfully, with Max wishing all of us a good week, a false smile plastered on his face. Just like me, Eric couldn't wait to get out of the room as quickly as possible. We were out of the door before anyone else rose from their seats.

"Why didn't Max bring up the complaints?" I ask. If there was one thing that bothered me throughout the whole meeting, it was the small – but undoubtedly growing – stack of complaints the old hag brought in. I was tense in anticipation for Max to read them out, but he merely cast it aside and left it there.

At the sound of my voice, two synchronized heads snap to me. Their tails wag as they clamber out of their beds towards me, pausing midway to stretch. Eric closes the door behind me with a sigh of relief, locking it for good measure. "Because they weren't valid reasons." He pauses to scan my expression. "Is that what's been bothering you? Because I can assure you that, that, was nothing." He leans against the door, almost like he was afraid someone would barge in.

"I guess? Maybe I was overthinking it." Of course there will be people against it; this isn't peace-serum high Amity. Nevertheless, I would do everything in my power to ensure my furkids remain here. "Hi babies," I greet, settling into a seat as the dogs hurtle towards me, their excitement contagious. I pull them into a hug as they prop themselves up, nestling my face into Hawk's fur. The dogs have a calming effect on me. It's some sort of supernatural power that turns my horrible mood to dust, a power that rarely fails.

Once I'm feeling much lighter, like the world is no longer pressing down on me, I lean back. Had not my dogs be here, I don't want to imagine how worked up I would've gotten. "How often do these complaints occur?" I ask curiously. Eric's moved from the door, claiming my desk as his.

"Well, complaints are nothing new. Ever since Jeanine incorporated the system of 'peaceful' objections, the human resource gets a lot of them in a day over everything imaginable," he shrugs, booting up the computer. "Most of the incident reports and complaints are pretty petty. They typically consist of whiny adults who prefer point reduction or blacklists over roughing it out there and then."

"Sabre, you can stop chewing on my arm now." It takes a moment for my dog to register that I am indeed, talking to him. The gears turning in his head is almost visible as his eyes flash between me and an amused Eric. Once processing is complete, he gapes at me in shock that I noticed, dropping my arm that's now decorated with saliva and light bite marks. "Thanks." That'll need a few thorough washes.

"Then why not abolish it?" I ask. It never occurred to me that there was a 'whine booth' at Dauntless, seeing that brawls are frequent around the faction.

He clicks a few items, not bothered by the idiocy of the system. "Jeanine wanted it, said that it made us look more 'sophisticated'. I did try to have it abolished, but Jessica was having none of it. To be frank, I think this just gives her an excuse to off-load her more important work and also get in on the latest gossip," he says dryly. "Not that it bothers me. It's good that most of the key decisions are no longer made by her."

Everything feels calmer now that we've moved past the events that unfolded earlier. I pray that what Eric told me about the complaints aren't a lie, for I won't know what to do if Jessica's predictions prove true. My dogs are unbothered by it, having settled back into their beds to resume their naps. I should learn from them sometime.

"Who does her job now?"

Eric pops his neck and makes eye contact. "Me. Veronica does some parts of it too. Now that Cole is being mentored by her, he'll be taking some load off our backs." When he returns to the screen, his face brightens slightly and leans back, satisfied with what he's found. "And you know what's the worst part?" he picks up from the conversation.

"What?"

"Most of the time, those complaints or incident reports are just ignored. Rarely is there any action taken unless serious. This whole system mostly gives the members a false sense of self-importance. It works too, for Dauntless aren't known to hold grudges like the Candor and Erudite do."

* * *

"Pardon?" He holds up the limp black suit dubiously, looking between it and a hyper Sabre.

I pick up the bite pillow and hand it to him. "Remember how I told you about the dogs and their training?" He blinks. "When we were on the rooftop? It was the first weekend I think. You found me staring at the photo of them?" I try jogging his memory.

Placing the suit down onto the mat, he rests his hands on his hips, thinking. Gunner drops the ball he's just fetched at my feet. "Yeah… but when you said training, it never occurred to me that you trained them on…" he gestures the equipment splayed on the mat, "this, considering you're from Amity."

Did he think that training consisted of 'sit' and 'shake hand'?

"Yeah, well, my mom is from Dauntless. We do still have a danger aspect," I snap back almost icily, feeling offended that even after how I've performed during stage one, he couldn't connect the dots. The next ball that drops at my feet distracts me from saying something sharp; Hawk looks up to me expectedly.

_Deep breaths._

My arm reels back as I toss the ball across the vacant initiate training room. "They began training just months after they were born. Mostly protection; attack work for Sabre."

Four, as usual, is completely oblivious on the effect his words had on me. He examines the bite pillow, fingers trailing over the tiny but many indents in wonder. "So these are… bite marks?" he asks incredulously, flipping the pillow over to point.

"Yep. This was when they were pups, since they weren't tall enough to reach the arm," the tip of my tennis shoe nudges the battered bite sleeve. "Now we use the bodysuit. Don't want them just aiming for the arm. You can try the pillow on Sabre, just place it in front of him. Hold tight, Sabre can be quite… forceful and tenacious."

Four doesn't seem to take my advice seriously as he casually sticks the pillow towards Sabre; maybe he thinks that his thick biceps will save him. "He's not doing anything."

"I know, I know. Sabre?" The black-tipped ears perk at his name, tail wag intensifying. "Go."

Immediately, Four's eyebrows shoot up as he stumbles forward and grunts. The weight of the Sabre's whipping form causing him to lurch along until he finally manages decent footing. "That's, crazy," he wheezes, the muscles on his biceps tensed as he lifts the pillow, Sabre follows with the motion, jaws unrelenting.

"Break." Sabre jumps back down to all fours, tail wagging as he trots up to me. "He is part wolf after all. Can't expect anything less I guess." Sabre has the highest prey-drive too, but I don't think Four would appreciate being compared to a squirrel or deer.

"Part wolf?" he splutters, taking a step away from us. "And he can just bite someone, just like that?" This is the first time Four has completely dropped his placid façade. He looks genuinely alarmed for once, emotions raw on his features.

I rush to reassure him. "Of course not. Sabre – as well as the rest – needs to first identify a threat. Even if I say 'Sabre, go' now..." I do my best to mimic the tone from earlier, Four flinches. "He wouldn't do anything." As predicted, the dog slowly twirls in confusion before returning his attention to me. "Dogs are good at reading people, so their judgment is the first and final nudge on whether they will act."

Four is surprised by the knowledge. I can't blame him since I had gone out of my way to read up on it. "Then what about that?" He shakes slightly drooled pillow a bit too wildly. "I wasn't a threat!"

I blink. "Oh, that. That's different, cause you placed it in front of his face and it is a known bite item. I just wanted you to experience his bite force before anything." Plucking the bite pillow from his hand, I pass it to Sabre, who eagerly grabs it and runs off prancing like a deer. "Gunner and Hawk work differently. Their focus is different from Sabre's," I explain.

Instead of re-tossing the ball like I did with Hawk's, I pat the side of my thigh when Gunner approaches me. "Sabre's aim is more towards keeping someone down – an enemy or hostile of sorts. So, he tends to be more vicious, with the tactics ingrain into him being possibly… fatal."

Four's jaw slacks as he regards the gleefully prancing dog with new eyes. "And you've managed to train him like this in Amity? How?"

"Well, I had John – my cousin – for help. We didn't do it out in the open, just at a clearing where it was far from the people," I say, chucking Hawk's slobbered ball to another direction of the room. "On the other hand, Hawk and Gunner lean more towards the protection side," I stroke Gunner's head as he stares up at me attentively. "Their focus is the person they're protecting, me, typically."

Gunner follows to my heel as I travel the length of the mat. "So, if I were to say, be threatened, Gunner wouldn't fully lash out unless they are close enough to inflict harm. And even then, he will only warn or damage the attacker enough to chase him away, he's not trained to completely disable."

Four takes his time to process the information, his fingers at the tip of his chin. "So… they only protect you?"

"Typically yes, but they will protect whoever they are close with as well, such as my family." Well at least, I think they do - we never had any break-ins or fights in Amity. Trespassing is non-existent there, and that isn't because people don't invade our home.

"What if I sneaked up on you? Will Gunner sense it?"

I'm almost tempted to tell him to try it out himself, but I don't think it's too good of an idea to scare him twice on his first time. "He will. Dogs have excellent hearing and smell. Of course, your intentions matter too, and that's displayed through your body language."

He appears unconvinced, which is odd considering that I figured he would've seen the supermarket incident. "What if it's a child running up to him?"

Snippets of my dogs being harassed by hippies flood my mind. "No. They aren't coming to cause harm. Even if a child makes the dogs uncomfortable by tugging, they won't snap. It's all about exposure and having the dog go through different scenarios. This helps with their tolerance." I point at the reproaching Hawk, "Take this guy, for example, he's exceptionally good with children. Although the other two aren't too shabby themselves, they are another story."

His gaze alternates between the running Hawk and Sabre who's throwing the pillow across the room. "And why's that? Isn't he and Sabre the same breed? That's what you told me right."

"Personalities differ. Hawk has always been a bit more outgoing than the other two. I guess one of the major factors that come to play is their mixed genome. Hawk has a bit of border collie in him, which is a breed excellent with children," I experienced that first hand in Amity. " Sabre, on the other hand, has wolf genes. It's mostly extracted from the Czechoslovakian wolfdog, so-" I cut myself short, realizing that I am starting to get technical with someone who knows next to nothing about canines.

"Long story short, he prefers solitude with his family. He's less outgoing with others."

Somehow, Four seems to understand parts of it. "And you did this how?" he asks.

"Erudite. A decade or two ago, they invented a machine that could alter the DNA of organisms. My dad was among the only ones taught on this, which is how the dogs managed to come about. Erudite gave us the machine to manipulate the genomes of animals and plants, increasing the production rate and quality by changing the characteristics of organisms. That's how we managed to produce the first herding dogs too."

He stares at me, perplexed but intrigued. "So your dad knows how to… code for animals?"

"They have a DNA bank for the farming species. He just kinda swaps bits and pieces. They didn't come in one go since it's quite complex to compartmentalize to their characteristics and traits. Even today they are still updating the system," I reply. I'm unsure of how it works too, since I gave him what's equivalent to a shopping list for the dogs.

"Huh."

Unknown to most people, all animals used for meat products have been genetically modified. It was the only way to keep up with the growing population without jeopardizing the animal's standard of living – as requested by the previous Amity leader.

Sabre nudges me, moist pillow touching the back of my now-dirty hand. Picking the pillow from him, I suddenly remember something. "There aren't cameras here right?" Exposing my dogs' abilities to the whole faction will not go down well, especially with Jessica on the prowl. Though I did check during my initiation days, I want to be sure.

"Hmm?" His attention at Sabre moves back to me. "No, there isn't. But there are cameras at the entrances outside."

That's good. "So, what do you think?" I gesture to my panting dogs, "Still want to train them? It's fine if you want to back out, I know they can be a bit… much… at times."

He hesitates a bit, scrutinizing my dogs like he did to the initiates. "I think it'll be interesting. This is the first time I'm meeting dogs in a different light," he nods to himself then towards the arm sleeve, "What Sabre did earlier was only aimed at the arm… I'm sure they can't get worse than that."

My vision flickers down to the limp black bodysuit on the ground. "Actually…"

I'm not sure how to break this to him.

* * *

**A/N **

**This chapter took me much longer to write than expected. Weird since I had been planning it for a while back already.**

School (A-Levels) is reopening again, so I will have less time to write. I hope this won't affect it too much, but physical school tends to burn more time than online. I will be posting the following chapter this weekend, so if I do happen to go on haitus, it'll be on a chapter that I'm sure you'll love hehe.


	30. 30

The door is harshly pushed open. _Taktak._

I pull my gaze from the mass of reports, settling onto my wagging pup. "Hi." The dog is already crouched forward, ass up in the air and wiggling. "Hi Gunner, you had a good morning?" The animal uncoordinatedly rushes to me, the whites in his eyes visible as he approaches like a crazed beast. "Wait wait, close the door first." He pauses mid-hurtle, blinking. I laugh and point at the door, "Close." Gunner follows the direction of my finger, his vision landing on the door. With the same enthusiasm as a second ago, he rushes messily to push the door close, listening to the 'click' before bounding towards me again.

75-pounds of excitement crashes into me. The chair rolls back at the impact of Gunner launching half of himself into my arms. I giggle and thread my fingers through his dense fur, rubbing down his cheek and neck. Gunner cuts his welcoming short, pulling away. He starts bounding back and forth the small office, not minding one bit that he as to wheel around every few strides. Halfway during his performance, he pauses at the water bowl for a drink. Lately, Gunner has forgotten how to _simply_ drink water, always making a point water the ground. Once the quick break is over, he continues his zoomies. The water dripping from his mouth fly to the surroundings. "Gunner!"

I get a sassy bark in response. "Stop that! You can't just wet-" Gunner cuts me off with a throaty groan, his voice wavering in defiance. "Hey, you need to stop-" Then he starts baying, staring straight into my eyes. "Don't mock me!" His next wave of noises does just that, pitches suspiciously close to mine. I narrow my eyes at him.

Sabre, who was resting peacefully on his bed, lifts his head at the arguing. He takes this moment as a signal to start his sonorous singing sessions. Combine Gunner's complaining and Sabre's howling, I can imagine what everyone on the floor must be experiencing. "Chaotic," I sigh bitterly, sluggishly rising from my seat to quieten them. I pat Gunner's head. And just like that, his rebellious bays instantly switch to happy pants.

It takes me a while longer to settle Sabre down. I don't know what John and Johanna did to Gunner, for he's now much more playful with water. It came to the extend that I had to place a towel under every water bowl now. Not to mention locking my bathroom door so he wouldn't join me while I'm showering.

I stare at splat of water on one of the reports, blinking at how that managed to land perfectly on the name 'Jessica'. Same Gunner, same.

This has been our routine since work started for the dogs – minus all the noises earlier. Sabre and Hawk had begun their delivering services yesterday, waiting in the office until one of the leaders drop by with a package or when I receive a text from my phone. So far, it's a comfortable routine we have grown into. I am mostly in Eric's office or mine, going through various reports, reviewing data, and learning how to use the computer. So far, reviewing patrol reports has been most interesting.

I point on the grey area of the map. "But why Abnegation?" There have been increased sightings of the factionless near the edge of the faction. In Kyle's comments, he says that it's unlikely a threat, seeing that the sightings haven't led to anything violent. Kyle reviews tagged reports that Axel – the head of the patrol sector- compiles from the patrol teams and stations. Our role is to present them to the respecting factions and propose any course of action.

Eric makes a solid red circle on the map with a marker, jotting down today's date and the estimated number of factionless spotted with a black pen. "Factionless sightings have increased in general," he says. "I've not found a pattern yet. However, I do suspect that they have been stealing resources. Another possibility is that Abnegation is doing that for them."

He wasn't wrong about the increase. Compared to the map from last year, the numbers have doubled. "What do you mean by food-stealing?"

Eric places the pen down and strolls to a metal cabinet, digging through files. "Remember the time I brought you back to Amity?" He pulls out a thick brown file and places it down on the round table. The word 'Food logs' is written in bold black letters.

"Yeah… Did something happen?" Gunner hops onto the vacant chair between us. Without permission, he sits and wordlessly enters our conversation.

"No." Eric pulls out a few papers and lays them out for me and Gunner. On the top of each paper is the symbols of each faction. "These are the food logs two months ago." The table on the papers are organized into three simple columns: 'Item', 'Delivered' and 'Received'. "The numbers haven't been tallying up." Eric steps away for me to compare the documents. Sure enough, almost every food item delivered is reduced by a quarter.

However, what makes me frown aren't the missing goods, but the fact that Abnegation is the only faction whose Delivered and Received data are identical. "This," I pick up the paper to check if I'm reading it right, "but…" The memory of my last night in Amity replays in my head. Dad had found the food-stealing reports on Abnegation absurd, saying how there wasn't a food shortage to begin with. Does he know about this? That the food sent has been going missing? "This doesn't mean Abnegation is stealing it. Aren't goods transported by the Amity trucks?" I ask. There isn't enough evidence.

Eric shakes his head. "Most of the goods are by train. The trucks that come to the loading bay typically transport chilled or frozen food items." He traces a long line on the map, "This is the train route. The first faction it passes through is Abnegation, then Erudite. And Erudite," he slides the faction's report directly in front of me, "is the faction with the most missing goods. To some extent, the reports against Abnegation does make sense. After all, the two factions never were on good terms."

My head throbs at the information. Erudite may be right about the thievery, but that couldn't possibly be true. Sure, Abnegation is the only faction to feed the factionless, but… could they…? A nudge at my thigh pulls me from my thoughts. Sabre looks up hopefully for a pet. He must've sniffed every possible corner in the room there is already.

Eric gathers the documents back into the file and continues, "Now, I'm not saying that the reports on Abnegation are true, but data shows. If it's the factionless themselves, it's quite possible that food is being stolen in these areas." He circles a few clusters of buildings next to the train with the butt of the marker. Gunner sticks his paw out at the direction of Eric's hand, intrigued by the small stick. He snorts and taps the laminated table when he fails to reach. Eric smirks and continues, "Which was why I have been commuting to Amity more frequently. I want to reduce the need for trains and have the trucks transport them instead but-"

"The factionless might ambush the trucks instead," I finish. Johanna will not be keen on putting her people in danger.

Eric faces to me, surprised. "Yes, that is one of the problems. My way of solving this is to have Dauntless travel in the trucks with them; though, Johanna doesn't like the idea," he ruefully says.

"Johanna speaks for the people. Have her alone and I'm sure she would've agreed with you." One thing I missed about Amity was their way of solving faction-wide issues. Although Johanna is the faction's leader, all issues are solved by the people, who come together to discuss and make a uniform decision. "There isn't another way?"

Placing the file back into the cabinet, he replies, "Not that I can think of. We don't have enough vehicles to tail every transport truck, especially now that sightings have increased and more patrol teams are being sent out. And also that it's a waste of fuel to make the commute. Another flaw of my plan is the shortage of Amity trucks to keep up with the demand. The number of trips a truck can make is two to three max."

I lean against the table, idly stroking the soft fur on Gunner's extended paw. Sabre acts as foot warmers by my feet. This is the first time we're brainstorming over something. While I do appreciate him letting me in on his plans, my head hurts from the bombardment of information. The clock hanging above reads 1:43 pm. "I just realized something-"

At the same time, his voice overlaps mine, "Did anyone ever tell you that-"

I turn to find him already staring at my lips. Heat rises to my cheeks. "Yeah?"

He pauses for a moment and meets my gaze. "Nothing important. You were saying?"

My heart rate picks up. Was he actually staring at where I think he was? "Oh er…" My mind goes slack as I try to remember what I was saying. Something about lips? I swallow thickly and push off the table, suddenly feeling hot and stuffy. "Er…" The tip of my tennis shoe accidentally hits Sabre. Just like that, my memory restores and the fog clears.

"Oh, have you seen Hawk?"

* * *

_Horrific._

"Absolutely not."

Skylar pouts at me, just like the army of toddlers behind her.

The _audacity._

"But Hawk has been such a good boyyyyy," she whines. Hawk glances at her before joining in on what seems to be the formation of an ear-bleeding orchestra. This is not going according to plan. Who was I kidding? This was never according to plan in the first place.

The _nerve._

"Hawk!" I snap lightly. Unlike the rest of the people, the dog immediately shuts up, his head lowering slightly. I snap my fingers and point to the ground in front of me, "Come."

The moment my dog removes himself from the cluster of children, the children whining starts. My head starts pounding again as the pitch climbs higher and higher. Veins on my forehead pulsing as I stare hard at the people who know nothing. Why, oh why did I request Eric not to join me, insisting that I could handle this on my own.

The other carers at the side only shrug their shoulders and expose their palms, indicating that they had no part of it. My eyes narrow. Not helping is still considered as being part of it.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"Can we at least talk about it?"

My eyebrow lifts, 'no' at the tip of my tongue. There is nothing to talk about. Hawk is a dangerous animal, regardless of how harmless he is to children. "About?"

She gestures wildly to the groveling dog and the whining children. "You know!"

I contemplate for a millisecond, "I'm going to have lunch." With that, I turn on my heel towards the stairway down.

"Wait!" she says. I don't. Eric's babysitting my dogs at the mess hall, both of them weren't too happy to be given away to the man they once saw as a threat. I'll need to get back to them soon before they start acting up, especially now that it's lunchtime.

Thirty minutes, that's how long it took for me to locate my dog. Lucky for me, I have a friend that just so happened to spot my dog through the cameras. Unlucky for me, I also have a friend who's becoming more moronic with every second that passes. After a cursory glance, I'm relieved to see Hawk's loop muzzle and vest still attached. He follows my swift pace, his steps only faltering once was when a girl cried out 'puppy!' before bawling like she's in some movie.

The period of peace only lasts a minute before the slapping of boots against concrete pre-empts me of the approaching Skylar. "Anna wait!" she huffs, falling in step with us. "Look, I don't know why you wouldn't let Hawk help out at the day-care. He's been a great help, especially during-"

"You should've told me he was there." I cut off. Eric is spotted easily from the thin crowd. Across him is a distastefully familiar silver head. Thankfully, his back is to me. I pray he won't say anything – he intimidates me.

She hesitates a little. "I was going to, but-"

"But what? He was there since ten and it's two-thirty now. Tell me when you were going to inform me." Skylar has my number. Wouldn't have hurt to send me a text that she deliberately took Hawk to the day-care. Four informed me that Hawk was on his way back to the office when she called out to him.

I grab a plate and start filling it with fruits, seeing that there's little to no food. I'm extremely disappointed over what Skylar did. Sure, Hawk had chosen to follow her, but I shouldn't have been the one to go out of my way to look for him. She has no right to do anything with my dogs. Yet, I'm not sure why I'm surprised by her actions. Perhaps it was the dimming hope that she would be different from the people I met during high school.

I guess not.

Instead of replying, she turns the question around sharply, "Why are you so against it? You already have two dogs! You barely have enough time for one more! Why else would I have found him wandering by himself!"

I drop the banana I was holding, eye twitching. Hawk is my dog, _my_ child. What does she know about caring for an animal? "He was working you-" I catch my tongue. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes in an attempt to calm down. Skylar would not hold up well if I were to offend or physically attack her. A nudge on my thigh makes me slowly open my eyes; Hawk had picked up the banana. Tucking it between my hand and plate, I force myself to continue calmly, "Hawk delivers documents, which is why you see him 'wandering' around. He is also dangerous, which is why bringing him to the daycare is an extremely…" I bite back an insult, "… not the best idea."

I grab a few more bananas and head towards Eric's table. He's already up and heading towards me, a plate of food in one hand and leashes in the other. Seeing him like this only makes it harder to imagine being with anyone else. He's a breath of fresh air.

Skylar rebuts me. "Well, he hasn't bitten anyone yet. Plus, doesn't that stop the dog from snapping?" she points at the black loop around the base of his snout.

"Yes, but he can still nip if he wants. And, you just saw him pick up a banana." I reply dryly. Gunner and Sabre are wagging their tails furiously at the sight of me. They look like they are straining against the leashes, except that the leashes are very obviously loose – something they picked up after realizing that pulling doesn't do any good. The sight of them and Eric calms me slightly; until my view drifts to a staring Axel.

Skylar doesn't say anything when Eric approaches. I assume that the pleading expression on her face means that she would like to talk to me alone. Lucky for her, her wish will be granted soon. I have no intention to speak to Axel yet, "You alright?" he asks, scanning my face before narrowing his eyes at the idiot.

A wave of fatigue washes through me. I sigh heavily. "Yeah I fine," I reply. He hands over the leashes of the hyper dogs, all three of them panting excitedly as everyone is reunited. "I just…" I inhale deeply, "need to talk to her."

Chewing his bottom lip, he looks between me and Skylar, taking in my emotionally drained form. "Okay. Is your phone on silent?" he asks out of nowhere.

I blink, thrown off. "No. Did you text me?" I could've missed the notification with how distracted and panicked I was earlier when I had to locate my missing dog.

He shakes his head. "No no, I'll text you later when we're about to leave. I'll head up first to get some stuff done."

"Oh, okay," I say, confused. He has never asked whether my phone was on silent. Heck, I don't even know how to silent it.

He places the plate of steak and grilled vegetables on the table beside his. "I brought this for you, figured you were going to take a while to come back."

I beam at him. "Thanks. I'll catch you later?" How this man isn't already taken is beyond me. How can any girl resist him?

He smiles slightly and picks up his empty plate, "Mhmm." As he passes us, he greets Skylar harshly. While she flinches, I internally swoon. Damn, am I lucky.

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" Eric has left me in an extremely good mood, one enough to not make me hurl the steak at Skylar's face and retrench her 'friend' status. The dogs have settled around me, demanding that I give them attention as repayment for their abandonment.

She takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds. "Look, Anna, I-I'm-I'm sorry. I know what I'd done was… selfish, but I figured that Hawk would be a good addition to the daycare. I wanted to test him out for the day before I brought up the topic, which is why I didn't tell you in the first place."

Instead of rudely pointing out that Hawk's addition is more for her benefit than anything else, I quietly peel the banana and take a bite from it. "Hawk has been a great help, actually. He knows how to calm the Because of that, they tend to cause less of a ruckus when he's around. He's incredibly intelligent too. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to group all the children back into the line after lunch. It was like he was chasing, but not catching, just waiting until they giggle their way back to the line. Without him, we would've taken a solid ten minutes," she sighs dreamily.

My pupils narrow. Hawk and I need a long talk on how toddlers are not sheep that need herding. "Did you feed him?" I ask, peeling the next banana after I let each dog take a bite of the previous one.

Her eyes widen. "No, no, of course not. I made sure he was by me. The kids were very cooperative with the rules I've placed."

"And what are these… rules?" I enquire. I take another bite and pass it around. Sabre yanks the banana from the peel, finishing Hawk's share. I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed as he innocently chomps away.

She sticks out her hand and starts to count. "No feeding; no biting; no pulling or yanking; no pulling off his equipment, and no screaming into his ears. You know, Hawk is an excellent model; a very cute one too. It's the first time all of them are seeing a dog, I think he did a pretty good job too. Everyone just adores him," she adds enthusiastically, eyes big and head nodding.

I've underestimated Skylar. I wonder how long she has thought of this, for there's no way she made it up on the spot. Facing my dogs, I twist my hand as to say 'no more'. They've finished all the bananas I've brought. "That's good," I comment, having nothing to say.

"So?" she asks hopefully, hands clasped in front of her.

"So what?" I ask, finally digging into my much-deserved lunch.

She purses her lip for a second and looks to the side of me. "Can Hawk help out? I mean, he doesn't have to be there all the time, since he has to deliver things. I'll come pick him up at your office too, and drop him off."

"I understand where you're coming from. I'm just worried that…" How does one explain to her that this happy-go-lucky, friendly-all-the-time beast is capable of maiming a man without a second thought? To add on, this beast can transition to either within a split second. "… well, I don't think it's good to put Hawk into volatile situations. Especially since, you know… these are _kids_." The bawling girl flashes through my mind. "You saw that kid crying when Hawk left. Don't you think this will happen again when parents come to pick them up?"

She stares at Hawk thoughtfully. My heart drops seeing that my discouragement isn't working. "All that noise would stress him out," I stress. "I don't want something bad to happen because Hawk tends to occasionally be… protective…" I don't want to risk the possibility of Hawk perceiving a parent as a threat. Dauntless is nothing like Amity, where parents are lenient and happy.

"But what about all those run-ins with the kids at the mess hall?" she points out. "Nothing bad happened to them."

"Yeah well, I was there to make sure nothing happens," I deadpan. My phone pings as a message arrives. _Reply if you want out. I'll come pick you up._ Although the offer is incredibly tempting, I know that I need to drive my point home. As easy as it is to tell Skylar the real reason why I can't let my dogs mingle with kids, I don't want more people to know about their capabilities. With Skylar, it's a wild card on whether she'll be able to keep the secret – a big one.

Hawk walks up to her, making her smile as she reaches for him. "Let's compromise," she proposes.

Horrible idea. "What is it?"

She thinks about it, attention still fixed on Hawk. "I'll have him leashed for the first few days. And at the end of the day, before the kids are picked up, I'll bring him to you, or I'll bring the child out instead of letting the parents come into the room."

Her proposal isn't bad, surprisingly. "He'll only be there during the morning and late afternoon. He comes back after your lunch to rest," I tune. She agrees readily, eyes sparkling at the prospect of Hawk being able to join. "And you'll have to keep an eye on him at all times."

"Of course."

"Make sure no one takes off the loop," I point at the muzzles on the table; taken off earlier to feed the dogs. "I'll give you a smaller vest instead of this big one he's currently wearing." I pick up the last of grilled carrot and place the cutlery onto the empty plate.

"Thanks! When can I start?" She then starts whispering to Hawk excitedly, who in return, perks his ears and wags his tail.

I'm unsure of my sudden change of heart. Hawk, being the friendliest, always has a soft spot for kids. I'm still worried about the children's safety, but above all, I trust my partner's judgment. Plus, I couldn't quite stop him if he were to sneak out now and then to pay a visit, unless I have him leashed 24/7. "Today. I guess."

"Really?" she squeaks. "You hear that boy? You get to play with Candice again, and John, and Blake, and all the other children, and the toddlers, and the babies if you wish," she ends with a hushed voice.

I hope I don't regret my decision.

* * *

"Eric."

"Anna."

The train station is empty, being the middle of the day. Even after a month, the putrid smell of sweat from crowded initiates still stings my nose thinking about it. That smell was accentuated by the body heat emitted al around me. It was the day Riley was first discharged from the med bay, and though she appeared fine, I had to support her as we boarded. I remember the thin layer of sweat coating my back after I helped Four pull up a handful of injured initiates.

Which is why it's a beautiful relief to no longer see any of that here, ever.

"And here I thought you didn't know the timetable," Eric says casually. He stands on the platform, facing the direction the train will be arriving in.

Instead of his typical sleeveless vest, he's wearing a Dauntless jacket. He told me to wear something warm earlier. Now glancing between his attire and my casual maroon hoodie, I feel tragically underdressed. It's too late now to go back to change – not that I have anything else to wear. It be hilarious if I were banned from entering because of my attire. This trip is going just peachy.

Gunner scans the area curiously as we stroll up to Eric. It's the first time he's here. "Well, I almost didn't have, had you not conveniently placed it in my phone," I reply flatly. This sneaky man. I received a notification from the reminders app about it. "What else did you do to it?"

"Don't know, I guess you'll have to…." his voice trails off as he takes in Gunner appearance, "What did you do?" His nostrils flare in amusement as he turns to me, eyebrow lifting in playful accusation.

I throw my hands up in the air defensively, "What? It looks cute." Gunner looks up to me, blinking. He doesn't look that bad… does he?

"He looks like the girl in Star Wars. The one with two buns on her head," he chuckles.

I pout. I guess Gunner somewhat resembles that. He's wearing a pair of earmuffs. His sharp ears covered by little domes. "But he looks cute," I grumble. Gunner tilts his head, making me wonder whether he can hear us. If no, Kelly – the lady who made this - did a tremendous job, to a fault...

"You're cute," he corrects, then points to my dog, "This boy though… this boy is a beast."

I scowl. Gunner is more teddy bear than beast. "You're a beast!" I fire back childishly.

He grins and winks. "Didn't say I wasn't," he shrugs mischievously. "Especially when it comes to-"

"And I don't need to know that, thank you very much," I interrupt abruptly. Eric laughs at my scowl. Judging that we're going on a business trip, this is a horrible time. Not that there was ever a time for it in the first place.

"I was going to say when it comes to training initiates. Who knew your head was that far in the gutter?" There's a shit-eating grin etched on his face. I don't like it one bit.

"Sure you were," I reply wryly. The train is approaching. Unlike the previous times where it would only peskily slow slightly, the screeching noises indicate the breaks being applied. Jack Kang - Candor's head - had agreed to let Gunner come along. I didn't even know Eric went forward to ask until he told me about going to Candor first thing this morning at work. It didn't even occur to me that I could bring my dog along, judging by how we'll be taking the train. In the end, I settled on just Gunner, figuring that two will be a challenge in an unfamiliar environment. Sabre is currently being dog-sitted by Four, whom Zeke readily agreed for him.

For once, there are seats on the carriage. I slip off the Gunner's earmuffs and take the seat nearest to the open door. The dog immediately sticks out his head as the train begins moving, excited by the vast landscape. I don't loosen the tight hold on the leash until he sits near the edge, his snout sticking out slightly.

"You know…" I say in the silence, nervous. "You didn't push me away that day." I tie the leash on a handle, hiding from Eric at the possibility of this going downhill.

"When?" he asks beside me. Being alone in train again with him next to me, brought back memories.

"The visit to the fence," I reply quietly. Every time I think back, I'm choked with guilt for not telling Eric who I was, causing him so much pain when it could've been easily avoided. It was only by coincidence did he find out that I was the girl in the fields. Imagine if I had told him from the start, on the visit.

He places the file he brought on the seat next to him and leans back. "I couldn't," he finally says. "Don't ask me why. It was… nice, I suppose."

I wait, half expecting him to turn the question around, announcing that I purposely didn't do anything despite knowing. Much to my surprise, he doesn't. "Oh."

He angles his body towards me, watching. "And you? Why did you come over? You seem pretty chummy with number boy," he muttered the last part to himself, but I caught it anyway.

I blink twice. All I remember during that trip was Eric whooping a man's ass and me wordlessly comforting him after that. Does Eric have a good memory? Heat fills my cheeks as scenes of me embarrassing myself resurface. If Eric could recall all the times I've got down and dirty when playing with the dogs, I have no idea why he likes me – he's a pretty clean man. He would've seen my occasional topless episodes, the ones where it grew too hot in the evenings. Oh… my… goodness. If Eric saw me, that means so can the rest of the guards. I'm such an idiot. But they couldn't have seen much being so far away, right?

"You alright?" His brows are furrowed in confusion. "Did he say something?"

"Yep, I'm good!" I wince at the shrillness of the tone and clear my throat. "He didn't say anything," at least, I don't think he did, "I just remembered something, that's all." It takes me a few more seconds to yank my racing thoughts back to the conversation at hand. Any longer, I would've spiraled into a never-ending series of flashbacks of me being an absolute fool. "I mean, you didn't seem alright…" I say nervously.

He hums. "I suppose I wasn't," he agrees. I wring my hands, swinging my feet in the air as silence descends upon us. There's so much I want to ask, so many questions left unanswered. I want to know how long he had been watching me, as well as why. Eric never struck me as one to tolerate apple-pickers, so why was he wasting his time one? A whiff of his cologne distracts me. "Curious. Would you have done the same to anyone else?"

I lift my head to find him much closer now. Oh my. His cologne is beginning to mess my senses. "What?" I ask, stupidly breathless.

His voice drops an octave as he leans down. "If I were anyone else that day… would you have done the same?" My breath hitches. From here, I can see every speck and hue in his eyes - and it's mesmerizing.

A shiver runs down my spine. Heat flowing to my cheeks. "Oh." I wet my lips and look to my clammy hands, overwhelmed by the sight of him so close. "I…" I can't stop replaying the huskiness in his voice, the way his eyes followed the swipe of my tongue, and the audible sound of him sighing.

"Anna." His hand goes to my chin, tilting my head back up towards him.

I feel his thumb lightly trailing along my bottom lip. "Yeah?" He's so close, it would be so easy to grab him right now. Crawl into his lap and crane his head up, his arms around my waist. My vision clouds and my muscles start to relax, thoughts blurring together.

His breath fans my cheeks as he rests his forehead against mine. "Tell me," he starts slowly, his other arm encircling my waist, "what did I do to deserve you?"

Warmth blooms in my stomach. It should be me asking him that. "I… I-" Suddenly, we are forced apart. I jolt from my seat, the moment shattered like glass. _Thunk!_ "Heck!" Pain sprouts at the back of my head. Beautiful.

Gunner stares between us innocently. His forelimbs propping him up as he sniffs towards me, wondering why I'm rubbing my head. "You ass," I growl. Gunner merely grins before barking once.

"You alright?" Eric asks. He peers over my head to scan the damage. I can't possibly be that short for him to lean so effortlessly, right? "It sounded like you hit your head pretty hard."

I scowl. "Yeah. I'm fine." Gunner stuffs his snout under my free hand, forcing me to forgive him via pets. "You're still an ass." My dog doesn't reply, content with the head rubs I'm giving. "Was he like this when I left him with you?"

Eric chuckles, picking up his file. "Well, to put simply... we're working on it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Gunner is usually compliant with the people he works with. I know that because of how Liam loves to shower him with compliments whenever he sees me. Not to mention his constant requests for treat refills. "He's normally alright. Maybe he just needs time to warm up." I suppose Gunner can be occasionally… stubborn.

"It's fine. I respect his ways. Don't want a dog who trusts everyone," he smiles. Eric moves to the doors, peeking his head out slightly. "Come, we're almost there."

"Really? That's pretty quick." I stand from my seat, untying Gunner's leash. I've never been to Candor before. All I know is how irritating the teenagers can get. Right after I reattached Gunner's earmuffs, the brakes are applied. The train slows towards a huge concrete building. The rows and rows of windows and concrete outline making me cringe slightly. I expected something more… artistic, not quite a large boring run-down complex.

"Been here before?" Eric asks. He climbs down from the train, extending his hand to help me.

I wave it off and hop down, Gunner following in suit. "Nope." Black and white-clad people are roaming and relaxing at the courtyard. A large number sit in small groups under sparse trees. Most turn to us when they notice the canine by my side, nudging their friends and whispering amongst each other. "Of course, there are people lounging around at the courtyard," I grumble, sliding off Gunner's earmuffs and clipping it to his vest.

"Keep your head high," Eric says. "The Candor are... weird at times."

At the entrance of the building displays Candor's symbol, etched onto the wall proudly. "What's that?" I nod towards the broken phrase underneath the faction's symbol. 'THE MERC IS MART'.

"This building used to be called Merchandise Mart, but everyone now calls it Merciless Mart." He then slightly scowls, "You'll understand it soon enough."

Gunner follows my heel, his attention towards me. Was it any other the other two, I doubt I would have a smooth walk to the building. Eric doesn't seem fond of coming here, and I can see why. It's hard not to ignore the comments I overhear from the people around us. The worst part is, I'm not even straining my ears. I glare at a group of female Candor, having heard them comment on how filthy my dog looks. No, I did not coat my dog with ash or soot; he's just born that way.

Eric speaks up from beside me. "I think we may have a little problem."

"You don't say," I ground out, finally removing my glare from the uneducated group of women. He nods towards the entrance and I belatedly follow his gaze. Ah. My hold on the leash tightens and Gunner stops, his ears perked at the minuscule pressure applied. " You didn't tell me there'll be another dog," I whisper, panicky.

We resume our walk at a much slower pace. "I didn't know Jack had a dog… or a child," he whispers back, still keeping on his poker face. A beat passes. "But, I may have forgotten to check the last email he sent."

I choke on my saliva. "WHAT!" I whisper-yell. We are approaching them soon. In front of us stand three individuals; a placid man in a suit, a yapping black and white dog on a leash, and a small child. The small child clings onto her father's arm, talking to him as she glances between the three of us. She couldn't be no more than the age of five, baby fat still prominent on her cheeks. I would've called her cute, but baby John was cuter.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted during the train ride," he teases and coughs to cover his smile. I flush. "Gunner should be fine right?"

"I hope so. But a heads-up would've been nice," I say. The dog was barely half the height of Gunner, much less his size. He has large bat ears and wide bulging eyes. His snout pressed slightly to his face and his mouth wide. I wasn't particularly a fan of this whole 'flat-nosed' look, but his ears do add to his cuteness. Had he have shorter legs and a more capsule-ish shape, I would've passed him as a French bulldog.

I can see why Jack would own such a dog, his markings are as distinct and clean as the suit his owner's wears.

The man steps forward when we stop a few feet in front of him, the girl still clinging to his pants. The dog immediately stop yapping, straining against the leash to sniff at the direction of Gunner. "Welcome. Jack Kang." He extends his hand to me, a smile on his face. I try not to groan at another hand-shaking faction, clasping my hand with his before wiggling it. The man is charming; almond eyes, angular face, tan skin. He reminds me of a blurrier Kyle.

"I'm Anna. It's a pleasure to meet you," I smile politely. Gunner stares down at the small dog, unimpressed by his energy, albeit curious. "This is Gunner, thanks for having him over."

"The pleasure's all mine," he says smoothly. For reasons beyond me, he bends down to examine the dog, confused. "Say, isn't this Johanna's? I thought I saw him a few weeks back at her office."

I push down my surprise. "Oh, he's mine. Johanna was just temporarily taking care of him." The words sound weird off my tongue, for it makes it seem as if I took advantage of Amity's hospitality.

Eric rushes to clarify, seeing that Jack's confusion hasn't subsided. "Anna's an Amity transfer. She just finished initiation."

"Ah, I see," he nods. "He has a beautiful coat, by the way." Giving Gunner a stroke, he straightens back up. "I couldn't believe my ears when I heard about dogs in Dauntless, had to see them myself. Does this mean that Dauntless is now accepting larger animals? I'm sure a few of the transfers would be delighted to have their pets transferred too." My heart skips a beat. It completely slipped my mind that if I had dogs, other members would start making requests too.

Luckily, Eric seems to already have that sorted out. "Not at the moment. This is currently a pilot project. Also, we would have to change the infrastructure of the area if we were to have animals, seeing that Dauntless is dangerous," he replies smoothly. "Perhaps if this works out, we will look into the possibility. Now, shall we proceed with what needs to be discussed?"

Jack appears to be a little thrown off. He clears his throat, "Yes, of course. But before that, I'll like to introduce you to my daughter, Amy."

The little girl shyly pulls her thumb from her mouth and waves slightly. "Hi." I wave back encouragingly. She too has tan skin and almond eyes like her father. Her hair has been tied into a short ponytail, curls that are too short to tie framing her face.

"She's still shy to strangers, and it's also the first time she seeing such a large dog," he laughs. Jack squats down to pet his dog. "Judge here, is quite the opposite. He loves meeting new people and dogs. Don't you Judge?" The tuxedo dog wags his short tail to the leader, his tongue lolling out as he pants heavily. I loosen my leash so Gunner can sniff out the new animal. The small dog perks back up as redirects his attention back to his new friend. "Well then, let's get to the part on why you're here." Jack gestures for us to follow him. Amy keeps a hand on his trousers while Judge prances beside Gunner. I am impressed by Gunner's patience today. He doesn't typically tolerate nonsense from my other two.

The main lobby is vast and spacious. Right smack in the middle of the floor is Candor's symbol. A balance in equilibrium, colored black and white. As expected, more heads turn our way as we head to the elevator. I wonder what people will start saying when I turn up each time with a different dog. Maybe they would think I like to have them spray painted, depending on my mood.

"So…" I clear my throat, unsure of how to go about this. I'm rethinking my decision-making. Since when does Anna volunteer to take care of children? "Would you like to pet him?" Gunner lays between us, watching Judge amuse himself with a ball. Amy nods her head, squeezing her tiny hands together. "Okay, just like this." I stretch out my hand and lay it on his wide back. "See? He loves when people pet him."

She hesitantly scoots closer, opening her hands like I did. The second her hands make contact with his fur, her eyes lit up. "He's so fwuffy!" she exclaims, moving her palms along his back and ribcage. "Judge no fwuffy," she pouts disappointingly.

Mentally, I sigh in relief; she talking is a good sign that I'm doing it right. "He is," I say gently, "but he also drops a lot of fur." I remove my palm from his back and extend it to her. "See?" Gunner is definitely due for a brushing tonight.

Amy gasps and yanks my hand to her face. "Oh no!" She inspects my hand then inspects hers in child-like horror. "What happwens!" She then places her hands back on Gunner's coat, rubbing all over. "Put buack!"

Her eyes are starting to glaze in her panic. I cringe slightly, patting her frantic hand. "No no, it's just like that. It's like how we drop hair. There's nothing wrong with him," I quickly reassured. Surprisingly, Amy understands what I'm saying. Her's mouth forms an 'o' and she settles back on the floor, her rubbing slowing down. Once she calms, she starts giggling at the dog, going so far as to hug him. I notice she's missing a front tooth. Kids her age don't lose their teeth this early, do they? At least, from my experience. "What happened here?" I point at my own front teeth.

Her face suddenly lights up, revealing her missing-tooth. "Oh! I eat lots of ice crweam!" She clasps her hands together and scoots to me. "You like ice-crweam?" she whispers secretively.

I flush embarrassingly, "I don't think I've tried ice cream before…" All I know about the dessert is that it's found in Candor – an exclusive specialty. John did gush about them once when he visited the faction on a business trip, saying how – in a nutshell – was like eating flavored creamy snow, but far better.

Once again, Amy gasps. "You muss! Come! We go eat ice-crweam now." She hastily rises to her feet, patting down her simple black and white dress. "Juwge! We gwet ice-crweam." The little dog runs to the girl, the ball in his mouth wet with drool. He places the ball into her hand. "Ew! Blek!" Amy immediately drops the ball onto the ground in disgust.

Warning bells go off in my head. I highly doubt anyone here would be happy to see the sight of a Dauntless in the company of the leader's vulnerable daughter. "Wait! I don't think it's a good idea. We should ask your dad first."

Amy grabs the leash shoves it to me, pointing at her dog. "No worries, I get ice-crweam for you. Daddy made me promise to only eat once a…" she lifts her hand to her face, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she horribly counts, "meek."

I clip on the leash and pass it to her. "Oh, okay. But-"

"Hwurry! Ice-crweam!" Using the hand moist with dog spit, she grabs mine and pulls me hauls out me of the door. Disgust overtakes every concern I have.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?" Eric scans the melting white mess briefly, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. "I didn't leave you with a child only for me to go home with one."

I tilt the dessert towards me, thinking that maybe a bug got caught. When all I see is white sweetness gleaming back at me, I scowl. "What? I got it for you." The lady wasn't too happy giving me another cup - not that she was in the first place - but she did eventually. I thanked Amy for throwing a mini tantrum at her.

He tucks the file under his arm and receives the cup, a smile on his lips. "I can see that. But, why is mine smaller than yours?"

Before I can come up with an excuse, he snatches mine out of my grasp and shoves his to me. "Hey! You can't just take my ice-cream! I ate it already!" Eric lifts my cup above his head when I try to reach for it, mocking me. That idiot. I am not that short.

"Of course I can," he huffs and rolls his eyes, "bigger people need to eat more. And the last time I checked, you don't even come up to my mouth."

"Well, you checked wrong." I scowl, Eric's – now mine's – ice-cream beaming pathetically back at me. "Fine. Next time I won't get you one."

"I'm sure you won't," he smirks, digging into my portion anyway.

* * *

**A/N**

**8k words. Heh.**

**School is starting, and it's going to be hectic. I'm not entirely sure when I'll update again, so if you would like to be notified of when I do, do follow the story.**

**Until then, thanks for reading!**


	31. 31

_"Tell me… what did I do to deserve you?"_

Just like it did then, a shiver runs down my spine. The huskiness and rawness of his voice has been haunting me ever since, distracting me multiple times a day. I can't stop the warmth in my cheeks as I remember how he stared at me - like I was the only person who mattered. What I would give to-

"Anna."

I blink; vision begrudgingly refocusing back to reality. We're discussing work. Right. "Sorry, what?"

Eric scans my face, frowning. "I asked of what you thought of this," he points at the rough sketch of a trailer. Huh, I don't recall seeing this much detail moments ago.

Hastily studying the plans, I agree. "Yep, this works." We've figured a possible solution to the food-thieving issue. By using the far-superior Dauntless trucks and attaching trailers, we could transport more food while reducing the need for multiple vehicles. To put it simply, we plan to make short trains without railways. "I'll propose it to Erudite if you want."

Eric's quick objection surprises me. "Absolutely not." I pout. "There's no way you're going to Erudite," he decrees, snatching the sketch away from my darting hands.

I cross my arms in defiance and minuscule defeat. "Why not?" Eric's refusal confuses me. Surely he of all people would love to have me acquainted with Jeanine.

He lifts an eyebrow, his piercing glinting off the light. "Because…" he starts and pauses. He thrums his fingers on his chin, thinking. I wait for him expectantly. "I say so."

I am unimpressed.

Before I can voice out my argument, he changes the subject."Now, let's focus on the real issue here." My eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why have you been so distracted lately?" He closes the gap between us, stupid cologne wafting in the air. I scowl. He's playing unfair, using scent to throw me off. Yet despite my displeasure, my breath still hitches when he leans down to my ear. "Is it a guy?"

I pull away and splutter, my calf bumping into my dog's wooden bed frame. "What? Of course not."

He doesn't believe me. "Then why were you blushing?" his head tilts, interrogating. "Is it Liam?"

My brows knit together. "No."

His eyes travel the office as he racks his brain. "Four?"

Ew. "No." Four is a good friend, that's about the highest stage he'll ever be.

My curt answer catches him off guard, but he recovers quickly. "Then?" he presses. He couldn't possibly believe that there was anyone else right? My heart rate speeds up as I hold his stare. I'm unsure on whether he genuinely wants me to admit the obvious or he was trying to prove that he affects me - big time. I cast my eyes to the ground, suddenly oddly embarrassed. Is this what happens in high-school? Where people admit their feelings for each other like a shy mouse? "So?"

I clear my throat awkwardly. Here goes nothing. "You."

His reply is instantaneous; my answer expected. "Prove it."

"Sorry?" I find him staring at me intensely, his gaze piercing and calculating.

"Kiss me."

* * *

"What do you think? Pretty amazing huh?" Skylar points at Hawk. The large beast is propped on the wall, his head between his front legs. All around me the giggles of the kids are quickly fading as they disappear into the vast area of the day-care center. "And this only took seven tries!" The fawn dog peaks his head out, turning to Skylar. "Not yet Hawky," she tells him. Hawk obediently buries his head back into his legs, tail wagging.

I look between her and my dog, wondering how an inexperienced person like her manage to teach hide-and-seek to a dog. "Why did you teach him this again?" I ask, confused.

"Okay boy, go!" Skylar pats his shoulder. Immediately, Hawk falls back on all fours, nose to the ground. He sniffs the ground, trying to locate a child with as much intensity as when we're training. When he succeeds, he perks up with his tail wagging. "He loves it! And the children love it too." Just as she says that, the child bursts into giggles. The kid stumbles into Hawk, my dog the only thing holding him up as the kid hugs him. "Plus, with him as the searcher, the kids can hide in a larger area. Nothing ever slips past him." Skylar cups her cheeks, swooning as Hawk proceeds with his task. Each time he locates a kid, he is greeted with suffocating joy and excitement.

"Have you taught him to hide then?" I'll give it to her, teaching Hawk this is pretty ingenious. It makes my job easy too, since mental stimulation drains his energy quickly. I am impressed. Skylar has kept to her word, dutifully dropping him off and giving me a brief rundown of the day. She'd even manage to convince the kids not to disturb the other two canines, telling how it would make 'Hawky' sad.

Skylar continues keeping a close eye on the dog, waving over the children who've been found to gather. "Nah, he doesn't seem to mind being the seeker. Plus, the kids love him. If it were kid, no doubt a mini brawl will break out."

"Oh."

Gunner and Sabre flank me. They watch their brother curiously. I figured that Sabre might have wanted to join, but he seems content on the sidelines.

Skylar waves over another staff and motions for her to watch the kids. "So..." She turns to me, a hand on her hip. "Why are you here? Did something happen?"

"What do you mean you both haven't kissed!" my friend exclaimed incredulously. I wince and sink lower in the seat. "You've been dating for like… two months!"

A few heads turn to us, peering disgustingly with mouths full of food. "Can you keep it down!" I whisper-yell. Note to self: Never, EVER, eat lunch with Skylar at a diner alone. Extremely dangerous, never turns out well.

"What are you looking at?" I scowl at my dogs. The three of them are staring at me in faux shock, their jaws unhinged. "It's not like you guys ever kissed a girl before either," I grumble. Hawk tilts his furry head and lifts a paw at me, pointing. "Shut up," I snipe.

"There's nothing wrong with not kissing Eric yet!" I argue back quietly. "It's only been two months…" I trail off, pushing my food around the plate. Two months isn't that long of a time... right?

Skylar flips her hair, crosses her arms, and cocks her head to the side. "First off; it's Eric, not some other dude." She holds up her index finger for effect. "Secondly, it's Dauntless, not Abnegation. There's no such thing as a 'virginity' for kissing a boyfriend." My scowl deepens. "Thirdly," without warning, she stands and slams her palms on the table like a deranged lion. I sink into the seat some more. "IT'S ERIC COULTER. HOW CAN YOU NOT KISS HIM!" she roars quietly. From my peripherals, a waiter glances at us worriedly. Skylar - noticing it too - settles back into her seat, muttering furiously under her breath.

I throw my arms in the air. "What do you expect me to do? Just walk up and kiss him for no reason?" I argue, face red with embarrassment.

"YES! YES YOU JUST WALK UP TO HIM AND KISS HIM," she mimics my arms in disbelief. How is she more frustrated than I am? It's her who has a steady relationship with Zack.

"I can't just do that! He'll push me away!" I'm not sure why I'm even defending myself. Rarely do I have thoughts of kissing him. It's just so… awkward.

Skylar grips her hair in frustration and groans loudly, "Yes, you can. He's a guy! And guys don't pass up chances like this. You can do it anytime, anywhere. Trust me."

"You speak like you have experience," I grumble.

She deadpans and looks at me like I'm stupid. "I _have_ experience."

How could I forget? "Well! Well… Gah!" I bury my face in my hands. "I don't even know how to do it." Me? Going up to Eric and kissing him? I can imagine him laughing at my incompetence while my dignity packs up and leaves. I'm pretty sure my dogs can do a better job. They practice on me all the time.

I peek between my fingers to find Skylar scrutinizing me. She stares long and hard, eyes narrowing as she tries to figure me out. After she finally reaches the conclusion that I, Anna Laker, has indeed never kissed, she sighs heavily. "How?" she mutters, patting her cheeks with her hands. "Insane." Then she addresses me, "Have you been living under a rock?"

I turn to my three dogs, all of them panting encouragingly. "Yeah, kinda," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "But I did have a period of reading romances a few years back," I add hopefully, "So I do have an idea." John had sneaked me some books from Erudite's library during school. I'm surprised he even agreed to such an embarrassing request.

She continues with her vocal inner thoughts. "Unbelievable. How does one…" She then turns to me, analyzing. "She is beautiful…" she continues to mutter. Her gaze flickers to my dogs, "and her dogs are wonderful…" She cranes her neck towards the ceiling and growls, "Heck, she even came from Amity!"

I blankly stare back at her, a little lost by her internal battle over something I'm not quite sure what. Since when was there a correlation between Amity and kissing? I point with my thumb and whisper to my dogs, "She's a bit crazy, don't you think?" Hawk tilts his head while the other two stare back dumbly.

After a few more moments of her mentally berating the innocent ceiling, she heaves a loud sigh and directs her attention back to me. "Okay. So, as a good friend," she starts confidently. When she doesn't immediately continue, I slowly connect the dots to her train of thought. My eyes widen and a wave of horror washes over me. She couldn't possibly be wanting to… "I'll teach you how to kiss."

I spaced out.

"There, you'll do fine. No biggie," she reassures, flipping her hand nonchalantly. Gunner and Sabre turn to me from Skylar, nodding in agreement. I must be seeing things.

I clear my throat, shaking off my mental game of chase tag. "Sorry, what?"

"I said you'll do alright. Go lay claim on your man. I know Eric can be… frightening at times, but even the most vicious beasts come undone when the girl gets all possessive. Trust me. As long as you follow my advice, what could possibly go wrong?" she shrugs. "Right boy?" she pets Hawk, who had moved to her side somewhere in the middle of her speech, "Anna's got this."

As much as I hate to admit, I should've taken notes. Having zone out in mortification since she started, I feel as unprepared as I was when Eric confronted me.

"So, why did you bring this up in the first place?" she asks curiously. Gunner makes a huffing noise and rises to leave. Sabre follows him, enlightened by the idea of not having to wait for me to finish my neglected chicken chop. "Where are they going?"

"Use the toilet, probably." Lifting the cool glass of apple juice to my lips, I consider my next words. Half of me tells me to lie on the explanation. With Skylar's earlier outburst, I'm not confident that she'll take the news well. Then again, I did come to her for advice. Taking a deep breath, I cross my fingers. "Eric asked me to kiss him," I say somewhat calmly.

Instead of bursting into fits of rage and condemning me for missing the shot, Skylar merely frowns. "Why?"

I shrug. It's the same question I've been asking myself too. "Not sure. He caught me blushing and wanted to know who it was. When I admitted that it was him, he asked me to prove it." Hawk hops onto the vinyl bench, getting comfortable. "I told him I couldn't, and asked for him to give me time."

Confusion thickens for her. She reels back and sag her shoulders. "That's odd." She stabs a piece of her sliced cold sausage, munching on it thoughtfully. "I always thought Eric would've taken what he wanted." She jabs her fork at me, "And he just agreed to it? Just like that?"

I scratch my neck. "Kind of, yeah."

"Huh." She stabs another piece, relaxing back onto the seat. "Insecurity maybe? Who knows? Have you been hanging out with other guys? I know Jace had a small crush on you when initiation first started," she remarks casually.

My cheeks warm. "Oh. I didn't realize." That explained his initial suffocating friendliness. I did minutely suspect it during initiation, but didn't want to dwell.

"It was pretty obvious. I mean, I get why he did. The way you hold yourself screams confidence, even from the beginning. Plus, with the transfers talking about the way you fight, it's not hard to see why people are drawn to you. Heck, if you don't believe me, you could ask the man you have wrapped around your finger," she winks.

My face contorts like I tasted something sour. Attracting men was never my intention. Did Liam have a crush on me too?

Skylar slurps on her milkshake. "It's not a bad thing. It gives Eric competition, keeps him on his toes, you know?"

I sigh heavily. "To the point that he doesn't believe that I _genuinely_ and _only_ like him?" I say exasperatedly.

"Yep," she replies, popping the 'p'.

* * *

"Hey! Where's the other one?" Jace hands me a bulletproof vest, gesturing to Gunner and Sabre beside me.

Today I'll be going on my first patrol, and I've been conveniently placed with Jace. "I figured that there wasn't enough space in the Caiman. Plus, I was worried that the dogs may get out of control." Not that they have, yet. "I wasn't supposed to bring them anyway."

He seems disappointed. "Oh, okay."

Sabre gives the vest a good sniff before approving it for wear. I slip my arms in and tug it down. "Yeah, Eric insisted I bring at least all, but meh ." Now knowing that Jace had a small crush on me, I can't help but feel slightly tense around him. "So, how are you and Riley?" I ask.

At the mention of his girlfriend, he brightens. "We're great! Did you know that Riley is a great cook? She made chocolate ice-cream the other day. It's really good, tastes like the Dauntless cake! I'll bring it to you sometime!" Just from hearing the dessert uttered, my mouth is already watering. Would it be a crime to travel to Candor to get some now? I could go under the guise of work with Eric…

"Oh, that's nice," I say, unsure how to politely decline as I've been borderline-nasty to his girlfriend. "Don't need to share it with me, you can keep it," I force myself to chuckle, praying it doesn't sound as weird as it does in my head.

He passes the gun to me skeptically. "You sure? She could teach you sometime, I'm sure she wouldn't mind. She taught Zack the other day too."

I nimble my lip; the offer tempting. Imagine the never-ending flow of ice-cream, made from the comforts of my apartment. "Sure," I quickly agree, completely writing-off any reservations for the sake of good food, "any day is fine."

Jace grins at my response. "Great! I'll tell her tonight." Perhaps my relationship with Riley can improve, seeing that she no longer relies on me. "Come, I'll introduce you to the team."

The large hall is full of mingling Dauntless carrying their guns and equipment. There are Caiman trucks lined up, some already having their engines roaring. My dogs trot ahead of me, unaware and uncaring of the multitude of stares focused on us. Both canines are intrigued by everything around them, their attention darting and fleeting. "The next shift is coming up, hence the crowd. It's usually quieter when it isn't."

I do my best to keep my face straight and follow his pace. "How long are these shifts?"

"Three hours. We typically have two a day, with an overnight one every once or twice a week." We stop in front of a group of four. "Team Whiskey-35; one of the younger teams here," he states with his chest puffed. "Everyone, this is Anna. Anna, this is everyone." He then proceeds to individually introduce each person to me, of which all their names except Ruby's completely evaporates from my head. I'm a horrible person.

"So, how's Eric been lately?" The question catches me off guard. My dogs snap to me in concern from my sudden flinch. I had purposely picked the passenger seat, believing that it would give us peace from all the attention earlier. Much to my dogs' dismay, practically everyone pounced on them after Jace had introduced us. Both were less than pleased with all the human contact, silently communicating it to me with their tucked ears.

I peer over Gunner who's sitting between us. "Sorry?" The blond Dauntless has her posture relaxed as she drives, like she just asked about the weather. My lips purse as I struggle to remember her name. Was it something that started with a D?

"Eric? Eric Coulter? You're the chick who's dating him right?" My left eye twitches.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I do my best to say calmly. My hands bury into my dog's soft fur in an attempt to cool myself. "You know him?"

The girl beside me only looked a few years older. Perhaps his sister. She has sharp features. Pointed nose and high cheekbones, definitely features any guy wouldn't mind. Luckily for her, she has that and more.

A grin spreads to her lips, her face brightening as she remembers a memory. "I do! Eric and I had an arrangement about a year ago."

It takes me a while to understand what she meant. Once it does, the phone in my pocket suddenly feels heavy. "Oh," I finally say. Sneaking a glance to find her still grinning like a fool, I add on stupidly, "That's nice." I shift slightly towards Sabre, creating more space between me and D.

"Yep! Some of the best nights I ever had." When she laughs suddenly, I flinch. "Not that I had many in the first place."

I'm not sure how to respond to a girl informing me that she had great sex with my love interest, so I don't. The phone flips over and over on my palm; I contemplate on texting the subject of conversation. Of all people I'll be stuck with on a drive, it just had to be one of his past… I don't even know what to call it. "So… you both dated?" I do my best to sound casual and unaffected. This is far more awkward than my conversation with Skylar.

Miraculously, she buys it, the grin not once slipping. "No no, it was just purely sex and maybe a bit of friendship. He made it clear that he wanted no strings attached." At the word 'sex' I cringe, my stroking on Gunner intensifying. The dog is unaffected by what's unfolding, focused on the blurring images of buildings that we're driving through. "He's a good man. I dare say that he shaped me for the better." I'm not sure if she meant her bed-skills; I don't want to know.

My phone buzzes, distracting, and saving me from the moment.

_You in the truck?_

Speak of the devil.

_Yes._

I lift Gunner's paw, rubbing small circles on the back. There's no way Eric could've known that she was in this team. Then again, he does have information over everything. It's probably why I've been slotted with Jace in the first place.

We've been scheduled to patrol Abnegation. I have no idea how far it is from Dauntless, but I hope we're arriving soon. Not that she could tell, the air is starting to become suffocating.

_Where's the dogs? Send pic as proof. The camera button is next to the text box btw (by the way), the camera-shaped icon._

My eyes roll back. Not only has Eric been baby-ing me on how to use the phone, he's also been adamant about teaching me the abbreviations used in texting. _Yes, I can see that. I only brought two, didn't want to cramp up the truck._

"Is that him?" D says from the wheel. "Probably is, since you're smiling," she concludes herself; my stress increases. How does eye-rolling equate to head-over-heels grinning?

"Err yeah," I reply, tugging my collar. I stretch my phone out towards the door to include everyone. Sending pictures of myself to Eric wasn't something I'm fully comfortable with, especially when I don't look as good as I can be. Once I've sent the picture, I slump back down my seat. "Question, why did he call the arrangement off?" Now that it's all out in the open, the word arrangement is an understatement. I get the feeling that she's only calling it that for my sake.

She shrugs, twisting her head when she spots something insignificant on the road. "Beats me. He just called it off, didn't really give a reason why."

_All three of them could've fit in the truck snugly. _Only a few seconds later do I get the expected reply. _That Taya?_ I couldn't resist the opportunity of including her too.

_Ah, that's what her name is. _"Oh. Okay." Grey square buildings enter my view. I don't think I could survive another minute here. It's not hard to see why Eric wanted to sleep with her. At the thought of it, I immediately shove it all to the back of my mind. This wasn't a big deal, it's not like it was an official relationship. I suppose better Taya than some jealous psychotic woman.

_Are you alright?_

The truck finally rolls to a stop. _Absolutely. _Despite my conclusion, I'm still sour that I had to meet her._ I have to go._

Abnegation is bland. The buildings are all the same boxy shape, color, and appearance. Everything is identical, even the trees. I hop down the truck the moment Taya had it parked outside the faction, dying to escape the situation. My dogs didn't complain as I rushed out, following promptly. In most ways, we are quite similar.

"Alright, we'll split into teams of two. Ruby, you and Taya take the truck, the rest of us on foot. We're doing the east and south side today." Jace is quick to lay out the plans once everyone had gathered, something I appreciate. It's distressingly quiet, considering that it's afternoon. I crouch to remove my pups' leashes, stashing it into their vests.

Abnegation is an odd place. In many ways does it resemble a prison. Their color scheme and lack of beauty is sure to sap the life out of anyone. The pictures during school didn't lie about the atmosphere. This is supposed to be the faction claimed to be stealing food. Yet for logical reasons, I find that hard to believe. If they were to break rules, they should start with their own living conditions. "Abnegation hands out food to the factionless right?" I ask. Then again, the duller the place, the more secrets it holds.

By the grace of God, I've been paired with Jace. It would've been a struggle to converse with someone I didn't know the name of. "Yeah. That's on the north side. What about it?"

"Just wondering," I say. Gravel crunches beneath our feet as we walk down the street. The buildings surrounding the dwarf cube houses are abandoned and rundown, wind howling through the gaps of each building. I shudder slightly, unable to imagine anyone choosing to live here and not minding the eerie environment. "So we just walk around for three hours?"

Jace hums, kicking a crumpled can to the curb. "Pretty much. It's quite boring, but once in a while something comes up."

I flick my hand, indicating that my dogs are free to roam. Sabre trots up to the dejected can, examining it. "Like factionless sightings?" I probe.

Jace slings the rifle across his back, adjusting the strap. "Well, I guess. Even the factionless are boring, but at least I could write something other than 'Nothing out of the ordinary'."

"What counts as a sighting? Especially here in Abnegation, where there is a food distribution going on." I ask. Sabre trots into one of the buildings, his nose glued to the ground. I glance down to Gunner who's yet to leave my side, perfectly content with the slow pace of humans.

"Well, the factionless know not to come to close to faction grounds. Sightings here in Abnegation are typically reported when the food distribution aren't occurring. Usually, when a team has run-ins with them, we have to ensure they leave. Rarely do weapons get involved – at least, that I've heard," he says.

I wipe the bead of sweat trailing down the side of my face. "Why not just patrol the factionless so you'll know where they are? At least that way, you'll know where they congregate."

Jace sighs heavily. "We can't. The government passed a law a few years back saying that we can't patrol the factionless. They said that it was pointless and we shouldn't be patrolling them like prisoners. Something along those lines. 'The poor don't need policing', or something like that."

"Oh. So we have no idea where they stay?" There are hundreds of abandoned buildings in Chicago. For all I know, the one right here could be a hideout.

"Nope. What makes you think they congregate anyways? Out here, it's every man to himself."

I sling my rifle on my shoulder, hands aching. "I just assume they do. Factionless still need to interact with others, it's just the way people work."

"That may be true. However, from what I've seen so far, most factionless come in groups of three to four. I don't think they group by the tens or hundreds," he says.

I hum in response. A wet nose nudges my palm. My dog pants in greeting. "Hi Sabre, nothing interesting?" I smile. Sabre moves and stops in front of me, bending to the side to scratch his ear.

"He looks like he's smirking," Jace comments. He hunches to pat him, chuckling.

"He does," I agree. Sabre shakes himself and continues his search for nothing and everything. "He's quite the curious one. This one on the other hand," I bend down to cup Gunner's face with my hands, "likes to stay with me. Don't you boy?" Gunner wags his tail in response, his tongue darting out to lick my wrist. "Aren't you a cutie?"

Jace laughs. "You're like a mom to her toddler. You talk to them often?"

I plant a kiss on Gunner's fuzzy forehead. "Of course. I'd like to think that they understand me," I say, straightening up.

"Do they?"

"Nope."

"How did you find it?" Taya is in an extraordinary mood, considering that we just spent three hours walking mindlessly and toasting in the sun. I struggle to pull off the vest, probably looking like an idiot to her.

"It was fine," I rasp. Once the vest if off, I sigh heavily and sag onto my seat. Sabre takes the opportunity to unhelpfully poke his snout into my ear. I swat him off.

It's amazing how she wants to keep the conversation going. "Did you see anything? Ruby and I saw a squirrel I think, we don't often see them around. It was carrying something between its teeth too."

"Oh, that's nice," I say. I turn up the fan in the truck, using my shirt to create air currents into my chest. "We didn't see anything."

Her lip quirks down as if she felt my non-existent disappointment. "Aww, that's sad. You know-" My cell phone rings to life. "Is that Eric?" she suddenly squeals. "Oh my gosh, that's so sweet! I wish my boyfriend would check up on me like that too," she rambles wistfully.

Much to my dismay, it isn't Eric. "No, it's my friend." This is the first time Skylar is calling me. A small wave of panic surfaces at the possibility that something happened because of Hawk. "Sorry, give me a few minutes."

"Skylar? Did something happen?" I rush out. Over the phone, I can hear loud chatter; loud adult chatter. Was there an accident?

Skylar gasps in shock. "Anna! You picked up!" She sounds excited. Whenever Skylar's excited, it means it's nothing good for me.

"Of course I did," I frown. "What happened?" She then starts giggling. I wince and pull the phone further from my ear. Sabre takes this moment to jab his snout in my ear again. I swat him away and move his snout to face the front. 'Stop it.' I mouth.

Once she calms herself, she starts speaking in short breaths. "You know. How. Summer. Is almost. Over?"

I narrow my eyes. "Yeah…?"

She squeals again. "So like. Every start of the next season. There's like. War games."

I pause. "Like the one we had during initiation?"

"YES! Exactly like the one during initiation!" I get the feeling that she signed me up for it. However, only signing me up seems a bit gracious for Skylar. "I signed both of you up!"

I blink. "Who?"

"You and Eric, dummy!" Her squeal is cut short by someone in the background asking her to shut up. She snaps back with a stream of curses before returning to the conversation at hand. "Don't worry, me and Zack will be joining you too," she adds only marginally softer.

"Are you insane!" I snarl. "You can't just sign the both of us up for this! I have rights!" Gunner bays beside me, jabbing his wet nose to my cheek.

"You can't back out! Even your dog agrees!" she adds cheekily. Gunner bays louder, his hot pants making my cheeks gross. I reach a hand out and grab his snout, scowling.

"What are you even talking about? Dogs don't understand us. Also, Eric will never agree to this," I state harshly. Gunner forcefully blows air out of his nose, pellets of snot flying to my face. "That's disgusting," I snap, using my sleeve to wipe it off.

She must have thought I would've said that, for she already has a solution. "Nonsense! Just say that you signed him up, he wouldn't mind." I take a deep breath and lean against Sabre. This is insane. "Look, think of it as a date. I'm sure you both will have tons of fun. Plus, I'm going to be there with you. Please?" she drawls.

I sigh, staring at my cheeky canine who's gleefully panting back. "You're annoying, you know that?" I snap at him. "Asswipe," I mutter. To the phone, I groan, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Really?" the cheerfulness is back in her voice. "I knew you'll come along! The game is in five days, remember to tell him then! Bye!"

'Beep.'

"So…" Taya drawls. I had forgotten all about her presence. Perfect.

* * *

"I'm sorry," is the first thing Eric says to me. I wait for Gunner to hop out before shutting the door. "I didn't know she was in Jace's team."

"It's fine." I shift the vest and rifle in my arms, handing him the leashes. "I survived. Taya is somewhat pleasant."

He shoots her an unconvinced glance before turning back to me. When I don't say anything else, he sighs. "I have to tell you something," he says wearily.

Hanging the rifle back onto the wall, I turn to him. "I have to tell you something too, but you go first." Now that I'm properly seeing him, I can see how today's taken a toll on him. He seems far more exhausted than usual, the area under his eyes slightly darker than normal. His jacket hangs limply in one hand, an indication that he came straight from the train station.

"Jeanine requested you meet her in Erudite in two days." My hand mid-hanging the vest freezes. I knew I had to eventually meet her, but I don't think I'm ready yet. "Don't bring the dogs."

I inhale and continue my task. "Okay." There was no way I'm going to let her near my dogs to begin with. "It's alright. Does that mean I could still propose the trailer concept?" I ask hopefully, trying to lighten the situation.

It works. He smiles a little. "I guess you can." He's cute when he smiles.

I grab his jacket, folding it over my arm. "So, I may have signed us up for war games," I say nervously.

He takes it better than I did. "Is it the one that's happening this Saturday?"

I nod. "Yeah." He entwines our free hands together, heading back to the apartments. Eric couldn't honestly be insecure like Skylar said, right? He always makes it a point to show the public that I'm taken.

"Sure." I am stumped. Never have I ever taken Eric as one to enjoy menial activities. He always so busy that it's hard for me to wrap my head around him doing anything fun. And he agreed so casually.

"You know," Eric starts. We're on the way back to the daycare, picking up Hawk as I had told Skylar that I wouldn't be at the office.

"Yeah?"

Eric glances at me, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. "You should take more photos of yourself. Just try not to hide behind your dogs when you do."

* * *

**A/N**

I wanted to try something different from the typical 'jealous sex buddy', hence, Taya's character.

School is pretty hectic. They release a new timetable for tests. So I've been quite busy with studying and keeping up with homework/notes. My exams are in a month or so, but I should be able to upload twice before that. **My next update will be the following week.**

**Thank you for your patience!**


	32. 32

"We had a lot of fun back in the day," the blond says wistfully. "You would know, right? How did you find him?"

I don't reply, choosing to face the road instead.

"Oh, you haven't. My bad," Taya says chirpily, completely unbothered. "I'm surprised though, Eric does have a high drive, at least, last I recall. You sure you're dating?" His sex-buddy thrums her fingers on the steering wheel, bobbing her head to a non-existent beat. "Because I'm pretty sure he would be all over you by now."

I slam an extra pillow to my face and groan. This is stupid. "Why, boy? Why?" My dog belly-crawls toward me, licking my arm in greeting. "Just..."

"I mean, she's not that pretty… right?" Sabre and Hawk have disappeared into the shallow woods, uncaring of their owner's insecurities. "Gunner?" I ask hopefully instead.

My bed buddy doesn't acknowledge my call. His nose remains glued to the ground, sniffing for the perfect spot for his morning release. Tucking my hoodie tighter around my body, I sigh. "Who am I kidding? Even I would date her." The fallen wet leaves don't crunch when I drag my feet around, much resembling my mood. Taya is bubbly, probably funny, and insanely hot. It's not hard to see why Eric was with her. She was practically a ray of sunshine during our first interaction, surely she was even more when she was with him. A perfect match for his dark brooding self.

And her looks… Dark eyebrows contrasts the bluest of eyes I've ever seen. She puts the oceans to shame. Her jaw is sharp and her lips are full. It was as if God himself meticulously placed each part with his own hands, forming the perfect human. Her figure is tall and fit, held with such confidence that any man would love to have by his side.

However, the thing that makes us vastly different, is her youthfulness. There's something about her smile and personality. It's almost as if she grew up shielded from the horrors of the world - untainted. Yet, there was no way she could've.

And she knows how to drive too.

My hands gather the defrosted meats packages, transferring them onto the chopping board. "Why does he even like me?" I complain. A scowl is cemented on my face from my inability to stop thinking of her flawlessness. My pups wait in suppressed excitement for their food, sitting in their designated spots so their drool are contained in one area. "Look at this! Bland, bland, bland!" I pat my cheeks with the back of my bloodied hands exasperatedly. "You can't even see my cheekbones!" Sabre merely yawns in response, not hesitating to let out a loud uninterested whine while at it. Gunner, on the other hand, wags his tail sporadically. He must be hesitating on whether he should try cheering me up.

I wave my knife between the three of them. "Look, I know you guys are only here for the food, but can you at least! At least, pretend that you're listening?" Gunner tilts his head. "Not you Gunner, you're a good boy." My eyes narrow accusingly at silver hound, "Especially you Sabre. Is my insecurity a joke to you? And you too, Hawk. Focus on what I'm saying, not the meat I'm preparing."

No reply.

* * *

"I made you lunch."

Eric stares at the container I've extended to him questionably. "Why?" A pang of hurt goes straight to my heart.

I swallow thickly. Note to self: Never do this at the entrance of the mess hall ever again.

It would be overwhelmingly embarrassing if he rejected my food in front of everyone. "You don't want it?"

His face shoots up to meet mine, alarmed. "Of course I do," he grabs the warm box from my hand. "I mean, why all of the sudden?"

I shrug. "No reason. Just felt like it."

"Uh-huh…" He glances down at the three pups around him. From the way he's using his eyes to gesture to me, he's pleading to them for help. When they don't offer him any hints, he begrudging lifts his head back to me. "So you just woke up and decided that you'll cook lunch for me today," he questions skeptically.

"I cooked it yesterday for myself too, but yes, yes I did."

"And this has nothing to do with the encounter with Taya like what? Two days ago?" he continues.

"Of course not," I say a bit too quickly. With that, I'm walking down the stairs, hiding the sudden twitch in my eye. "Why would you think that?"

He doesn't hesitate to reply. "Because you were miserable since both of you met," he states matter-of-factly. "And you're awfully bubbly now."

"I wasn't miserable," I say defensively. I was pretty sure I wore my poker face throughout the entire time yesterday. There was no way he could tell. Grabbing a plate and two sets of cutleries, I busy myself with loading fruits. I'm glad Eric can't see my expression, for he would've been greeted with the fakest smile he's seen.

From the dog pants behind, I can tell Eric followed me instead of finding us a seat. "You were. You frowned at the computer the entire you time were using it and when you were compiling the reports. I saw through the blinds."

"It's not nice to spy on people," I grumble. "And I was thinking about something else."

"It's not my fault you kept your blinds open." I can tell he's smirking from his tone. "Plus, our offices are just across each other's."

There's nothing I can say after that.

"You do realize that I'm with you and not her, right?" Eric waves the fork at me, confused.

I hold up a spoon of blueberries for Hawk. "I am aware," I say almost robotically.

"And that her and I aren't anything close to what we have?" he further elaborates. "We had a booty-call relationship, nothing else."

"Why?" I figured that if Eric wasn't looking for an actual relationship, he would've taken the liberty to be with multiple women like Skylar had said. "Why just stick with one person?" I ask curiously.

He swallows the pasta and twirls another portion with his fork. "I mean, I used to sleep with different women. Eventually, I got tired of their buffoonery and became lazy to find new ones. Most of them are half-drunk when I find them," as he says this, he studies me cautiously. "Most of them hoped that by having sex, I would magically 'fall in love' and would want them to stay. Which I never did nor intended to," he says nonchalantly. "Occasionally it was amusing, but most of the time it's frustrating."

His casualness surprises me.

"Then I met Taya. We were initially acquaintances and went into the whole sex arrangement. There isn't much to say about it. She was going through a tough time and so was I. We had a mutual understanding."

Hearing Eric talk about his past was far less painful and envious that I anticipated – if I felt anything negative at all, surprisingly. He spoke as if he was discussing the weather and nothing more. It's obvious he's since moved on, completely unbothered nor wistful about the women of the past.

"Why did you stop with her? She mentioned that things ended a year back," I ask, feeling drastically better. My mood has lifted from its previous episode of doom and gloom, and it's all because of him.

This man works miracles.

The tips of his ears turn red and he purses his lips. "I fell out of it. Sex was to help me forget, and I guess found something else."

"Oh." I want to pry, but I can tell he wasn't in the mood. "That's nice." Maybe another time.

He brings the last forkful of pasta. "And you're okay with it?"

"Hmm?" Gunner nudges his empty pasta container to me. The dogs had plain pasta and a few meatballs; they can't eat onions.

Eric swallows. "With everything I've just said," he says carefully.

I tilt my head, confused. "It's in the past, why wouldn't I be okay with it?" Even if I wasn't, there was nothing I could do about it now. I can't hold his past against him, especially when we haven't even met.

Plus, if he hasn't been sleeping around for over a year, I'm assured that he wouldn't start anytime soon.

He blinks. His lips part for a second then close. He blinks again. "Right." Blink. "You're a really good cook, by the way."

I smile. "Thanks."

* * *

Not sure if it's her cakey makeup, nose-irritating perfume, or the fact that she's creating a brainless army that could ultimately destroy entire factions that gives me the creeps. It is probably the last one. It bothers me to no end that anyone could feel no remorse towards the unjust slaughter of others.

"Anna, what a pleasure for you to finally come along," Jeanine says. She's seated in a plush blue velvet chair, her hands loosely clasped on the desk. In front of her is one of her lackeys – the one interested in Eric – pouring water into glasses. I don't miss the way her back is unnecessarily arched to reveal the curve of her backside; shallow.

To Jeanine, I do my best to smile. "Afternoon, Jeanine."

"Forgive me, but I've been pushing Eric to bring you along for quite some time now. I've heard great things about you and your work ethic." Eric settles into his seat unfazed. I follow in suit.

I can't possibly imagine Eric rambling about me to Jeanine, especially when he's so against the idea of me meeting her. It would be a great help if she elaborated on her statement, but she doesn't, and I'm not sure how to reply.

"Oh, thank you." From my peripherals, the assistant glares at me. Perhaps I should apologize to her for being more capable.

"Say, I thought you would've brought your dogs along. Max has been telling me about what a great addition they have been, especially the grey one," her lips quirk down and she bites her lip to add effect. "Perhaps next time, maybe?"

Eric's rough voice cuts through the conversation. "That's not what we agreed upon." His tone is light, but I'm still able to sense the underlying threat.

Jeanine clicks her tongue like a mother to a child. "Oh please, let the girl decide for herself," she replies lightly. It seems she had all of this planned out already. "You would bring them, right Anna? After all, it is only natural for me to be curious over something that's been improving a faction. A product of Erudite technology to add." I bite my tongue, refraining to mention that practically everything she eats is a product of 'Erudite technology' and she should examine that instead.

"Sure," I say in spite of myself, "but I'll just bring one, having all three of them here may get chaotic."

She grins widely at my begrudging agreement. "Excellent! Next Tuesday perhaps?"

"Sure."

Jeanine claps her hands in excitement. "Luce, please note that down into the calendar."

The lackey diverts her sour face to her tablet. "Shall I notify Charles?" her high-pitched voice asks.

"Of course."

"Who's Charles?" I can't help but blurt out, alarmed. Was she planning to invite the whole faction too?

Jeanine turns back to me with an attempt of a comforting smile. "Charles was the one who led the team that developed the machinery, he of all people would be delighted to meet your pet."

That was a breach of personal rights, but there was nothing I could say. "Oh." I grab the glass of water and lean back on my seat, not feeling quite relieved.

"Now, on to what we are supposed to discuss. Anna, I-"

"Actually, Anna was just about to leave," Eric interrupts rudely. "She has other matters to attend." He points to the file on my lap, "These are plans to help combat the food-stealing issue."

Her brows knit together, and she leans back. "Is that so? May I have a look at it?" I hand over the file. The assistant takes it upon herself to scan the badly done sketch as well. I can't help but wonder if Eric ever slept with her. Maybe before he transferred? That would explain the empty death-glares she keeps sending my way. It's almost like I stole her man.

Newsflash, he's mine.

"Perhaps you could do this after the meeting? I'm sure that this can be done quickly," Jeanine reasons, handing the file back to me.

"We'll miss the train if so, and I still have an agenda to adhere to," Eric replies for me. There is no agenda. I know this because we virtually share the same schedule.

"I guess that's too bad then," Jeanine concludes to herself. "Before you go, Anna, I would like to ask you something."

"Anything," I say. Eric's knuckles blanch. He's definitely against Jeanine getting me involved, and I'm not quite sure why. It should generally be a plus point for your partner to be working on the same cause.

Jeanine leans back on her seat. Her hands clasped on her lap as she examines my – hopefully – blank expression. "What do you think of the current government?"

Four had briefed me on this. "The one currently being run by Abnegation?" I ask.

"Yes."

I had a long discussion with Four during yesterday's training session. He wasn't happy to hear that I'll be traveling to Erudite today. "I believe that there could be room for improvement."

At this, she straightens her back and picks up a pen. "How so?"

Her question was predicted. I couldn't be any more prepared. "To start, I don't believe it's fair that Abnegation is the one and only faction that makes up the government. Of course, I do know that the faction is known for their selflessness." She inclines her head slightly, pen thrumming between her fingers. "However, their selflessness does not necessarily equate to knowing the needs of the people. Also, corruption is still possible."

"But Abnegation has been the governing council ever since the development of the faction system," she counters.

"Just because it's old, doesn't mean that it's still the best system. For all we know, the government of the past could've been much different from what it is today." My hands are clutched behind my back, the clamminess making them slide a little.

Jeanine studies me closely, her brows slightly furrowed as she decides on the integrity of my words. I am grateful that none of my dogs are here, for they would've picked up on my racing heart. There isn't a doubt that Jeanine would grow suspicious if my dogs started acting weird in response.

After what felt like an hour – a few seconds probably – Jeanine smiles ever so slightly. "You seem to have strong opinions on all of this." Eric jostles in his seat.

I shrug in what I hope feigns indifference. "There are just things that could be improved. I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Of all the lies in the world, the best are half-truths.

"Indeed," she nods. "Well then, I hope to see you soon, Anna."

Mentally, I sigh in relief. If she had pressed on what I thought could be improved, my façade would've evaporated. I did not prepare for that. "Of course," I smile politely. "I'm sure my dog will be excited to meet you." He won't.

"We're going to be late." Eric's curt voice cuts through my conversation with the man. His mere presence has turned the atmosphere sour. The accomplished Erudite visibly shrinks into himself the moment his gaze lands on my brooding Dauntless leader. Oddly, Eric has light footsteps for a man his size. The only reason why I didn't jump at his voice like the grown man did was because I felt the slight brush of wind against my arm.

I regard the time displayed on my unlocked phone.

We aren't.

In fact, we have well over fifteen minutes till the train is due. "Sure, I'm almost done anyway."

"Why did you agree to bring the dog? You knew I was against the idea." Is the first thing he says once we're boarded. I knew something was coming from the way he didn't speak during our long boring wait, but it didn't occur to me that it was about my pups.

"I didn't have a choice."

"You did," he growls. He runs his hand through his short hair, frustrated. It's weird to see him worked up over something that doesn't directly affect him, the faction, or me for the matter. How strong is his bond with them anyway?

"Did I_ truly _though? I'm aware that Jeanine holds more power over Dauntless than it seems. She wouldn't have taken no as an answer."

For the first time since we exited the nose-irritatingly clean building, he glances my way. "What makes you think that?"

"Why else would she have been there when Max offered me leadership?" I counter.

He whips his head, shocked. "Jeanine?" The file in his hand is tossed to the empty seat beside him. "What did she say?"

That was not what I was expecting to hear. I lean back, stumped. It never occurred to me that Eric wouldn't have known. From the way things are, I figured he knew every nitty-gritty detail about everything. "I can't remember. Nothing important I guess." Is Jeanine having a secret agenda without him? My head pounds at that thought. The amount of secrets this woman is keeping brings a sour taste to my mouth. "Why?"

"When did she take interest in you?" I can see the alarm in his slate blues. He has the same posture and expression as when my dogs hear a noise in the woods. All he needed was perked dog ears and tail to match.

Shifting in my seat to get comfortable, I rest my head against a pole. Unlike Eric, I wasn't too bothered over Jeanine's interest over me. She made it easier for me to stop her psychotic plans. "Not sure. Maybe it has to do with my lineage. My mom did transfer from Dauntless and my dad does work with her," I point out.

He lifts his head to the air. From the way he's acting, this possibility never did cross his mind. "Right." His gaze starts unfocusing, reanalyzing the situation in his head.

"What's wrong with bringing the dogs?" My interest is piqued. Does Eric have a secret bond with them? Hawk perhaps?

He raises his pierced eyebrow. "Would you?"

My reply is ironic but expected. "No."

"Then?"

I throw my arms out in front of me and shrug. "I don't know. I mean, why are you so concerned?"

Eric doesn't reply immediately. I swing my feet in the air, patiently waiting. Now that the worse is over, it is nice being alone with him, despite the noise pollution of the speeding train. Here, we're just two people without the distractions of work or the stares of the public. Here, Eric is just Eric.

"They are yours," he finally replies. I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I pressed on, but it wasn't: "And also the possibility that Jeanine may use them as a project."

My shoulders sag slightly in disappointment. "Oh." It would've been great if Eric had bonded with my pups; their approval is of the utmost importance. "How so?" Either way, I am interested in his theories.

"She could clone them. I know your breed was renowned in the police force centuries ago." My eyebrows shoot up. "German shepherds, I think. I did some research a while back on it."

It takes a while to process the meaning of his words. When I do, I catch him off guard by leaning forward and grinning. "Were you thinking of bringing dogs to Dauntless?"

He scratches his neck awkwardly, almost as if embarrassed. "No, not really." When he finds me still waiting enthusiastically, he elaborates choppily, "it was just something that popped into my mind one day."

That's a really weird thought to have out of the blue. He clears his throat before I could pry some more. "Back to the issue. Jeanine might want to have your dogs cloned, especially since she knows how much of a success they've been."

"Oh, that's it?" I expected something more gruesome, coming from her. "She can if she wants, as long as she doesn't recruit me," I shrug. It would be hilarious if Jeanine had my dogs cloned. I bet she and her other Erudite scientists know close to nothing about raising a dog, much less a dog with such drive and energy. In the unlikely event that they did, I doubt they would succeed in the first try. I didn't.

As opposed to my unbothered self, Eric's getting worked up. "'That's it?' Do you-"

"It's fine," I reassure. "It takes more than the same DNA to produce well-trained canines. Their DNA contributes only a small fraction to the final product, it's upbringing that matters." I should bring Sabre the next time I visit. Of the three, he was and is the most destructive puppy. "Yes, this breed is capable, but only if in the right hands," I ramble off, my knowledge of their genetics vomiting. "They also have high levels of energy, which is mostly a con as they tend to get destructive if they don't exercise enough, even for a day. It does get annoying at times, but it gives them the ability to work long hours. A very hardworking breed. To the extent that they can't grasp the need for a rest day. I guess in their perspective, working is just another name for playtime. You know, I thought the Belgian Malinois would be a perfect breed – hence I got two - but man, their energy levels just drive me-" I pause.

Eric's staring at me weirdly. It's not a 'stop talking' stare, neither is it 'this is interesting' stare. I can't pinpoint what he's thinking. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" he replies airily. I can tell he's distracted, except that I'm not sure by what. He's acting so strange, yet it seems so familiar.

My finger circles his face from afar. "You know… that."

He looks away to the ground for a second. When he comes back, all traces of his previous behavior are gone. "No reason."

Ah yes. He was like this when I offered him the pocket knife. "Okay."

* * *

"Hey Ann-" Four's face and voice are blocked by an unusually hyper Uriah.

"Anna! Anna! Anna! Anna!" Despite right in front of me, Uriah continues to loudly chant my name.

I wince when my ears throb and take a step back. "Hi, Uriah. How are you today?"

"I have a question!" He is extremely excited today, which says a lot since he's always excited. The young male doesn't wait for my approval before he's already asking. "Are you dating Eric?"

"Urm…"

"You are right? Right?!" He's practically jumping on the spot, his body trembling with excitement. "Don't lie!"

I peer over the teen's shoulder to Four for help, but he pathetically shrugs and shows me his palms.

Some friend.

"Not officially…?" I add uncertainly. Uriah pouts. Technically, Eric has never asked me out, much less on a date; though, he did call me his 'girl' once. "Maybe it is? I don't know." Both of us have a mutual understanding, I guess. Definitely more than him and Taya, to say the least.

"But you like him, right? And you want to date him?" Uriah adds hopefully; a dash of puppy eyes for effect.

I scratch the back of my head. "Yes, I suppose so."

I'm not prepared for the loud 'HA!' that escapes him. Uriah cheers and starts dancing horribly on the spot. "No chores for a month! No chores! No chores! No chores! Woohoo!" he sings to the ceiling. "Thank you, Anna. Thank you," he picks up my limp hand and shakes it with too much force. "I owe you my life." With that, he's prancing to his brother. Through the dim lights of the Ramp, I can make out a horrified Zeke getting his shoulders shaken.

"What do you mean, you're dating him?" Zeke exclaims incredulously. "What happened to him?!"

I follow the direction of his thumb to a confused Four. "But we-"

Zeke throws his arms to the air. "Well you were supposed to!" Then he takes a step forward, invading my personal space like Uriah did moments ago. "Tell me," he asks quietly. I blink. Nudging his head towards the direction of his co-worker, he stares straight into my eyes. "is there something wrong with Four?"

Out of courtesy, I reply with 'no'.

Zeke explodes in fury, stepping away. "Then what? Do you even have the slightest grasp on how difficult it is to find him a compatible, respectful mate?! You, you, argh!" He somehow grips his incredibly short hair, shaking his head. Four stands behind him, slightly frightened by his friend's outburst.

"I thought it was obvious. I sit with Eric during lunch on most days…" I trail off, confused as to why Zeke is surprised at the news.

"Yeah, but I figured you guys sit together since you work together!" he replies defensively. "How am I supposed to know you guys are really a thing?"

Behind him, Four mutters, "Because I kept telling you."

Uriah's appears in my face out of thin air. "So like, do you guys really work in the office or…?"

My brows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean like, do you guys work or do you guys like- owh!" Uriah glares at his brother, rubbing the back of his forehead. "What's that for?"

"Your stupidity, obviously," Zeke snaps back, slapping him upside the head again. I can't blame Uriah for when he yelped again. It looked painful. Clearing his throat, Zeke turns to me. "Don't mind my idiot brother. He tends to not think before speaking."

"No I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" he barks back. "Now, run back to Marlene and let the adults talk." Uriah is given no chance to fight back, being shoved away by brother dearest.

Once Uriah is sulking his way to his buddies does Zeke start his interrogation. His posture is one of a disapproving dad: arms crossed and chest puffed out. "Now, what I would like to know is: when, what, how." Before I can speak, he lifts a finger to stop me. "And more importantly, where's the dogs?!" his expression once again melts into rage when he motions to empty air beside me then the massive area of The Ramp.

I blink. "They're at home watching tv."

His eyes nearly bulge out. "You're telling me…" his voice a low growl, "… that you trapped our mascot... at home?!"

I scowl. "They're watching Infinity War. They love marvel movies…" I grumble defensively. I want to watch Infinity War too. Gunner's favorite character is Captain America. It's beyond me how he even recognized the captain after his latest hairy makeover. Hawk on the other hand, absolutely adores Natasha, who with her new hairdo, loosely resembles Skylar. It's no wonder why my meticulously-trained canine decided to drop everything he's learned when he saw her last week. "And none of them are 'mascots', this isn't school anymore."

Zeke clicks his tongue. "Yeah, well, Gunner is our mascot. His appearance is vital for the team's morale."

"There isn't even a tournament! It's the middle of the week!" I argue back. "And I never agreed to bring him over."

"Just to get it out of the way: it's Thursday, not the middle of the week," he unhelpfully points out. "And why not? I'm sure he would have fun."

I narrow my eyes. Zeke couldn't possibly be implying that my dog should participate in the game. "Doing what?" I have no intention of teaching my dog a sport that could potentially break his legs.

"Getting free pets from the team," he dead-pans. "Plus, I'm sure he would love seeing you beat other people."

Now it's my turn to dead-pan. "If you haven't realized, I suck at Chase-Tag."

His face brightens briefly. "Oh, is that why you haven't been coming? Or is there more?" He redirects his disapproving gaze to his innocent friend. "Did you scare her off?"

Four frowns. "Why would I?"

Zeke taps his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know… maybe because she's dating your nemesis instead?"

I groan. "Me and Four have always been friends, nothing more. We meet up every day to train the dogs too." Training the pups with Four has been great. It just took a while for him to get used to the fact that the dogs are killer machines, or 'wolves in sheep's clothing' as he likes to call it.

Zeke lifts his head and regards me slowly. "So, you've been cheating with him. Does Eric know about this?"

"What?"

"Know that you've been meeting up with number boy over here," Zeke clarifies. "And that you've been collecting used shirts from other males."

Four scowls. "I told you it was for their scent training. And don't call me that. Where did you even learn it?"

Zeke huffs. "Oh please, Eric uses it all the time." When Four doesn't respond fast enough, Zeke continues smugly, "So you're not denying it? That you're trying to steal his girl?" The air in the massive stadium now feels stuffy, I take a step back.

Four is slow to process everything. "Oh, so you're taking his side now?" Four accuses, his reply lagging. I blink at the two bickering, wondering how things have escalated. All I wanted was to have a quick chat with Four, nothing more. Had not Uriah charge to me, I would be back at my apartment watching Infinity War with my pups. They must be having a blast without me, all in their cocoons I wrapped them in.

"Anna, I think you should let Gunner decide for himself whether he wants to join the team," Zeke says. Four stands further away from him, his face to the phone. I suspect their argument mustn't have gone well.

"The crowd and noise may hurt his ears." Especially on tournament days where the loudspeaker and cheers become deafening. "Plus, I don't think Gunner will take it well when he sees me being chased down like a rabbit."

Zeke thrums his digits on his folded arms, thinking. Behind us, Uriah yells that it's almost Zeke's turn. He yells back over his shoulder in acknowledgment, gaze hastily flickering to the scoreboard. "Fine, we'll sort this out another day. Until then, please find Four a mate." His tone is serious, but his words are the exact opposite. I'm confused on whether he means it.

"Sure," I find myself saying. "I'll try."

"He's joking right?" Four asks worriedly. We've finally been left alone, Zeke happily exerting himself on the course. Meeting here was a bad idea. All of this could've been avoided if we met at the chasm instead.

Shrugging my shoulders, I point out, "He's your best friend, how am I supposed to know?"

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose defeatedly. "That man doesn't quit."

"Why have you been turning down the blind dates? I'm sure not all the girls are that bad." I briefly recall Zeke complaining about the blind date failures. Have I not be with Eric, I wouldn't be surprised if I became a victim too.

Four crosses his arms and stands to my side, watching Zeke deftly hurtle over platforms. "It's just hard to find someone that interesting while holding the same values as you. Most people here at Dauntless are very simple-minded. They don't tend to think beyond Dauntless cake, tattoos, hair, and brawls."

"But that could be said for other factions too. Erudite doesn't think beyond advancing technology and Amity doesn't think beyond happiness and farming," I say. "Maybe you should give them more of a chance, get to know them. People are always shallow when you first meet them."

Four doesn't reply. The horn blares, signaling the end of the match. Zeke hoots in victory, patting his opponent on his back and shaking his hand. My absence from Chase Tag wasn't due to my skills. I'm just not ready to face Axel again. His disapproval that night unnerved me, and that left a negative impression on this place.

"So, does it work?" I ask instead, steering the conversation to the main reason I came.

Hearing this, Four digs into his pocket to pull out the device. "Well, the audio is pretty scratchy. It's probably cause you're moving and such." He places the small elongated recorder onto my palm. "I've moved it to a flash drive. Is there a less noisy place you could hide it? A file or something maybe?"

I flip the slim device in my hand, the black paint coating obscuring all icons and hence, it's identity. "I'll be bringing one of my dogs there next week. Maybe stowing it in his vest?"

"As long as no one pries."

* * *

**A/N**

**Heh. I'm sorry for this late update.**

I didn't forget, I just had a ton of tests (6) to go through last week. I also needed to edit a scene because the flow wasn't smooth enough.

**Thanks for the support! (I noticed a bunch of you checked for the new chapter last week. *Touched* I'm so sorry :') )**

**My trial exams are coming up the following week, so I don't want to say I'll be posting before then (3 weeks)) **

I am hoping to post another chapter by the end of this week, but I'll have to see if I can find time to write with the inhumane amount of school work I've been assigned with.


	33. 33

"You didn't tell me that!"

Skylar waves off, unbothered by my outburst. "Why would I put the two of you on the same team? That's no fun."

I begrudging accept the paintball gun from a member, grumpily slinging it across my chest. Unlike initiation, we won't be shooting stim darts for end-season War Games. Something along the lines of people having work the next morning and lower costs. "What's not fun about slaying everyone together?" I'm not afraid to admit it. After my first War Game with Eric, I've developed an unhealthy dependency on him.

She smirks knowingly, only increasing my anger. "You'll see."

"Then I'll just swap guns," I say defiantly. All I need is to swap my orange one with a green, then I'll be with him. "I'll ask Zack."

"He'll say no," my friend sings sweetly.

Zack said no.

"Can you believe her! Gah!" I growl, reclaiming my spot next to a relaxed Eric.

"You mean the teams?" he asks.

I unceremoniously bump into him as the train jolts. "Yeah. I thought we would be in the same one," I grumble, grabbing a suspended handle. I'm not sure how he balances so well on such a rocky trip.

Eric slides an arm around my waist, keeping me steady. "Well, couples do like to separate themselves during War Games." Compared to me who was dumbstruck with horror, Eric was completely fine that the captains read off our names on different lists. I was raging to get to Skylar while he was happily grabbing our different guns and pulling us away from the crowd. It didn't turn out quite how he planned, considering that I chuck my gun back to the box and marched to my, once again, moronic friend.

"Is it about the cold?" Eric coos softly in my ear. "You can take my jacket. I won't mind, as long as you don't get shot."

Blood rushes to my face and I jerk away from him. I don't get far - if at all - thanks to the tightened arm around my waist. "No, it isn't," I hiss. So, I may have purposely not taken my hoodie because I thought we were together. "I am a strong independent woman. Of course I can survive the cold," I growl.

He hums mockingly. "You are a strong independent woman," he agrees, grinning. "But cold is your number one enemy. I remember you shaking like a leaf on the first day of training." He's chuckling now, and not so subtly too. I shrink into myself as some people glace our way. Leave it to Eric to embarrass me.

"You know what?" I say, feeling a sudden surge of boldness. "Watch me. I'll prove to you that I can survive the cold of two am, and I'm going to beat you while at it." I will paint his stupid jacket neon orange if it's the last thing I do.

He sobers slightly. The small crinkles at the corners of his eyes still annoyingly visible. "If you say so. Just make sure you follow through with it," he warns playfully. "I don't want to lead a search party for when you pass out of hypothermia."

* * *

I should've taken his jacket.

It had conveniently slipped my mind that summer ended and it's now autumn, meaning that the temperatures went from chattering cold to full-body shivering cold. "Hey, how long do the War Games last?" my teeth chatter as I pathetically ask.

Skylar strolls like it's as cool as dusk. That wouldn't have bothered me twice as much if she wasn't only wearing a tank top. "At least two hours? Depends on how long it takes to retrieve the flag and stuff."

I trip over a pothole, stumbling forward to regain footing. The protruding laser on the gun digs into my stomach, causing me to wince and yank it away. "That's twice as long as our initiation's!" I whine. To my defense, I wouldn't be half of a whiner had not Skylar doltishly separate us.

"That's because we have to have both flags at the same time to win," she states. Skylar is pumped for tonight, a bounce in her step to match. Pretty soon she would get tired of me lagging behind the group, dragging my feet like a child. "But don't worry, I think I've come up with a fool-proof plan."

My ears perk, interested to get this over with. "Really? What?"

She laughs at my burst of energy. "I'll share it once we group up."

"Or we could just give it to Anna," Skylar's loud interruption ceases all bickering. All heads turn to her, confused and skeptical. All except me, who is, once again, in complete utter horror.

My 'no' is drowned out with multiple 'why's from the team. "Who's Anna?" a large blurry male asks.

"Yeah, who's Anna?" someone else adds.

Without warning, Skylar steps to the side, exposing my shivering self to the rest of the team. This is not what I hoped for as a first impression. "This is Anna," Skylar introduces. "She's new to this."

I awkwardly pat my cheeks and nose with my warm palms. "Er hi, I'm Anna," I say stupidly. For every second that passes, my regret of not staying at my apartment grows. This is the singularly, most awkward encounter I've ever had since transferring. I'm certain that there are at least twenty pairs of eyes doing absolutely nothing except judging me. What I would give for a movie night with my dogs instead.

"What's so great about her?" the same blurry man asks. Right after he says that, he grunts in pain.

"Don't be rude!" a female hisses from beside him, adjusting the gun back around her shoulder. I slowly edge back to my position behind Skylar.

She cruelly doesn't let me, stepping away further as she elaborates, focusing the spotlight on me. "She's Eric's girlfriend. So, if we pass it-"

"Wait, you're that girl? So are you two actually, _actually _dating?" some girl interrupts. "I didn't know Eric does relationships."

Someone else answers the question. "Duh. Have you not seen the two of them? They are basically glued to the hip." That's incorrect. It's my dogs that are glued to my hip. Eric comes in fourth place.

"How am I supposed to know?" the girl snaps, "I don't keep tabs on Eric like you!" If everyone in Dauntless was this easily riled up, I completely understand why Eric didn't do relationships before this. I wouldn't either.

Before the situation could escalate, Skylar continues. "Anyways... If we give Anna the flag, she could just locate the other flag and then we'll win."

"Except that if she gets hit, she'll have to release the flag and we'll lose," a mousy male voice points out. A few murmurs of agreement sound throughout the circle. I can't help but agree too, seeing that this is my chance at slinking back to the shadows.

To my utter dismay, Skylar came prepared, just like she did when she took my Hawk. "She won't," my friend says confidently, "Eric will make sure of it." My heart drops and a scowl etches onto my face. If I had to not get shot, it would purely be due to my skills, not privileges. I am an extremely capable woman who came as the first ranked initiate. I am far from being some damsel in distress.

"Eric doesn't baby me you know," I growl. "And I can win without his whatever protection." Someone among the group shouts 'lies'; I ignore him. I couldn't give two shits about him anyway.

Skylar claps her hands. "Well then, that's settled. We'll create a diversion by guarding the docks while the rest locate the flag. Oh, and Eric too, if possible." I blink. "All in favor of this plan say 'I'."

When the majority agrees, I panic. "Wait, I didn't say 'I'!" There is absolutely no way I am walking around like a suicide bomber. The risk of me getting shot is high, especially when these members are far superior to initiates. "I could get shot and we'll all lose! Can't you see how risky this plan is?" Where am I supposed to hide the glowing flag anyway? In my pocket?

Skylar hums. "Fair point." I sigh in relief. "But as long as there's someone with you, they could just take the flag and go; no biggie."

* * *

The flag feels extremely gross in my bra, not that I could do anything about it. It was the only way to seal off all light, thanks to the padding. I'm reminded again of not taking Eric's jacket, for I wouldn't have to suffer such a fate if I did. _Or you could've just brought your own hoodie_, the sarcastic voice in my head blatantly points out. I ignore it.

Predicament aside, my chilly night stroll has been mostly peaceful. For some reason, the full-fledged members are perfectly content in not having mini-wars, preferring to snipe each others' heads and not-so-silently cackle about it.

I keep my gaze on the ground, careful not to step on anything except flat tar and dirt. We've been walking aimlessly for an hour now, and I won't lie that this is starting to become a drain. Had my dogs be here, I'm sure I would be home sound asleep already. Their keen ears would catch the tiniest noise, exposing our enemies in no time.

"Haven't we been here before?" I whisper to Skylar.

My friend is still – for reasons beyond me – in an extremely good mood. While I had given up with all the crouching and tiptoeing, she's still going strong. We have yet to see any other people except the occasional scouts that report back empty-handed. There's a program in our phones that allows us to track our teammates' statuses. Something that would've been extremely beneficial during our initiation War Games. We spent half an hour locating everyone after the game had ended.

"No, we haven't," she whispers back. Pulling out her phone, she points at the street we're at. "See? We were there earlier, now we're here." The streets look the same to me: parallel lines of boredom.

"Right…" I whisper back less enthusiastically.

"Another one of our members just got knocked out," Skylar groans. "I'm telling you, these guys suck." Just as she says that, a splat is heard. My heart skips a beat. "Dammit!" she yells loudly, grabbing her leg.

I glance at the bright green paint on her thigh and send a bullet towards the general direction it came from. Nothing.

"Go!" Skylar yells. The force she packed into her shove makes me stumble forward. A bullet whizzes behind me. Immediately, I aim my gun towards the bullet's source and pull the trigger.

It pathetically hits a wall. I curse Skylar for making us walk directly under the moonlight. It's a full moon too, causing our silhouettes to be incredibly noticeable. Unlike us, the shooter is smarter, hiding in the darkness of alleyways. I can't spot any movement.

"Just run!" Skylar snaps, tossing her ammo clips to me. Combined with the little light and her bad aim, I fail to catch it. When I squat down to snatch it, another bullet almost grazes my head.

"They would just shoot me, you idiot!" I snap back, stuffing the clips into my back pocket.

"Stop yelling! You're just attracting attention to yourself!" Skylar scolds. She's flailing her arms in the air, worsening our situation for anyone who's nearby. I'm not sure why I didn't pair up with someone else, the girl who hit the guy with her gun would've been a good choice.

Oh wait, I didn't get to choose.

I'm not sure if I appreciate Skylar dictating everything I do in this game. I'm glad she's now out.

I point at myself. "Me? You're the one yelling louder!" Figuring that it would be harder to hit me if I weren't still, I shuffle my feet in random directions.

"Well, if you haven't noticed… I'M DEAD."

"And I'm not!" I snap back, getting fed up of this situation. Lifting my gun back towards the shooter's general direction, I begin splattering everything with orange paint. It is an incredibly unwise move, considering that we weren't given many ammunitions to begin with, but it worked.

Disgusted splutters and gags sound from the alley, the attacker had been hit right in the face. I sigh in relief and take cover, reloading my gun. If this was the norm of War Games, I think I'll have to sign up for sniping classes.

"ZACK?" Skylar screams at her eliminated boyfriend. Despite no longer being in her vicinity, my ears sting. "You asshole!"

"I won." I hear him chuckling. "Now you need to pay up."

Skylar groans in frustration. "I would've shot you at your crotch if Anna hadn't shot you in the face," she growls.

I don't stay to listen to their bickering. With all the commotion earlier, no doubt there were already people heading our way. Breaking into a light jog, I dig my hand into my pocket for my phone. I belatedly realized earlier that if I didn't have the flag, I could be jolly well camping and waiting for the game to end. Without Eric, it's hard to find joy in hunting and being hunted. Things would've been so different if we were on the same team. We would probably be talking whilst shooting everyone in our way.

This past two weeks of working with him has been nothing short of amazing. Tedious tasks aside, I enjoy brainstorming ideas and figuring out problems with him. He sees things so differently yet so similarly that our compromises lead to the best solutions. I suppose I appreciate the fact that he views me as a co-worker, not an apprentice who knows nothing – which I occasionally am.

"Hey, Anna right?" a soft male's voice sounds from my right; I jump in fright and jerk away. Gravel crunches loudly under my tennis shoes. When it registers that he scared me, he immediately apologizes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

'No shit you didn't,' I wanted to snark back. The whole Skylar-thing left me in a sour mood. Add in Zack and her re-uniting, I'm burning mildly in jealously. Never again am I allowing her to drag me into this mess. "It's alright," I lie. "What is it?" I take in his lean form and average height. He's one of the scouts, I vaguely recognized him when we were splitting into our respective roles.

"I believe I've found the flag," he says. My face brightens. I can't wait to get this over with. "It's at the tower here," he shows me the location through his phone. I use my phone to mark the location, ready to return to the comforts of my bed. Finally, there's a lead after over an hour of futile efforts. "I'll follow you there. But we need to be careful, I believe that quite a number of our team was taken out there, which is why we haven't gotten much news around that area."

"Yes, of course."

* * *

I love sleep. Sadly, the rest of the Dauntless population can't relate to that. They don't understand the lengths one would go for their primal need to rest. Maybe it's because they secretly have caffeine added to their food, or that they think sleeping is for the weak.

Back at Amity, sleeping was pretty much sacred. No one was allowed to make noise outside at night. And those who went out during the night only did so to sleep under the stars. I did try it once, only to come back with bug bites and my nose feeling numb from the cold. I never tried it again.

"Wait!" my teammate whisper-yells. "Are you insane!" I ignore him, continuing up the stairs of the tower. I did feel slightly bad for leaving him behind. He's a nice man, politely maintaining a safe distance and not trying anything funny. Or maybe he isn't, it's just that the standards are set low in my desperation to go home.

We didn't see anyone when we arrived near the tower. As he mentioned, there was a significant amount of green paint on the ground, but other than that, nothing. The enemy's flag was draped on the ledge like a beacon, with no one watching it. It's a sad miracle that it took so long for us to notice it.

From the way my nose tickles, the tower is too dusty for my liking. The smell of rubble and powdered concrete makes my nose sting. I see why the flag is placed here unguarded - it has a built-in torture mechanism.

I wince and curse when rumble crunches loudly under the soles of my boots. Even though from boringly watching the waving flag, I knew there wasn't anyone. I didn't want the man from downstairs to tell me off from attracting attention. I've pissed him enough as it is.

Coupled with the darkness, the climb to the top is a long one. My heartbeat thrums in my ears at the prospect of falling off the stairs from the lack of railings. At this point, I dare say that this is scarier than what I experienced in my fear landscape.

The second I reach the top, I sag against the wall. I unsling the gun from my chest and hastily prop it aside. The green flag is to my right. I am in no hurry to get it. It's about time I dictate the game.

It's nice here. The slight breeze blowing the wisps of hair from my face. Before me is the view of the buildings below, the sight surpassing the grueling walk Skylar dragged me for. Despite having nothing to do but scowl and contemplate, I've yet to come to terms with the idiocy I went through.

"Here for the better view of your team's demise?" Oddly enough, I don't jump when I hear him. It must be the exhaustion from everything that's happened these past hours. His darkened form moves in front of me, back against me. He lifts the scope to his eye, aiming down on sight.

My lips twitch upwards. "How did you know it was me?"

Eric chuckles, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Because if it were anyone else, they would've been shot already." Just as he finishes his sentence, he pulls the trigger.

Of course Eric managed to hit the target with one try. I'm not sure why I even second-guessed. The colorful shout of surprise is as much loud as it is familiar. It came from the guy that led me here.

"Touché." Pushing myself off, I move beside him and rest my elbows on the ledge. "And here I thought it was sheer determination and skill that brought me here." If it wasn't for my fear of heights, I would have looked down to see the comical damage.

Eric places the gun down. "Dream on," he replies cockily. I can practically hear him eye-rolling. I scowl, for I truly believed so. The urge to jab him in the stomach is strong, but I rather do that when we aren't four stories up.

"So you spared me…" I drawl, closing the gap between us, "Catching feelings, aren't you?"

He shifts to face me, I don't do the same. "Aren't you feisty today." Despite not seeing him, I could tell that he's smirking.

I smile and lean my head on his shoulder. "You didn't answer the question."

He bends down to my ear; goosebumps appear. "You know I always had feelings," he mumbles softly. A shiver runs down my spine. My mouth is dry. I expected to make him squirm, but he turned the tables instead. Stupid Eric.

"Oh," I say belatedly. My hands are wrung together, twisting as my distraction. He doesn't say anything; accentuating his words.

Fuzzy.

My insides are fuzzy. Shivers come in waves and I can't stop them. Eric could undoubtedly feel it, having moved directly behind me. He lightly trails his palms down my arms, goosebumps rising in his wake. My hands cease their fidgeting when he covers them. I watch as he lazily untangles them and folds our arms around my waist, pulling me closer. Warmth radiates from his chest. My eyes close and I sink into him.

"Anna." Speech leaves me when I feel him nibbling my ear. Every romance book I've read did not prepare me for this. Any moment now, I'll melt into a puddle. A sad, pathetic, puddle. "Do you trust me?"

I gulp. "Yes."

Cold air hits my back. My eyes snap open. His hands move to my shoulders, turning me to him. My brain does not register what is happening from the whiplash of his actions until I realize I'm higher than him. And he's standing.

I'm sitting on the ledge. "Eric!" Panic fills as I throw my arms around his neck. His arms tighten briefly around my waist, notifying me that I don't only half an ass to keep my balance. I relax slightly, burying my face into the crook of his neck. "You're crazy," I grumble.

"Crazy for you," he drawls huskily. His breathing is slow and deep on my neck, each exhale felt against my skin. Then I feel a lash from his tongue, followed by a hum of approval. Warmth spreads from to my lower region. My breath hitches. "You're mine."

Eric pushes against me, the space between our chests becoming non-existent. "Anna." He's biting my shoulder, teeth tugging at my skin. Nothing I've experienced that comes close to this. His tongue replaces his bite marks, soothing the dull pain created. I struggle to contain my moan. My senses have gone haywire from when he murmured my name. The way it rolled off his tongue and how he's affecting me now is too much for my inexperienced self to bear.

A hand goes between us, sliding to my jaw and gently angling it up. He trails his nose up my jawline. My nether region throbs. "Eric." I breathe out.

Beneath my arms around his neck, I feel a shiver. The surge of empowerment and pleasure goads me to continue. A new addiction. "Kiss me."

And he does just that. A guttural groan resounds from his throat as his lips mold with mine. He moves feverously, arms tightening in possessiveness. His tongue swipes along my mouth for entrance. I try my best to complement his actions, letting him in. Feeling him move so deftly against me, I can't help the awkwardness that's starting to settle at the back of my mind. I signed up for something I've no experience on.

I wished I had listened to Skylar's kissing lecture.

I'm unsure of when Eric realized this, but when he did, my thoughts have raced from 'be calm and just go with the flow' to 'this is the stupidest thing I've done'. He pulls away suddenly, knocked from a trance.

Just like every intimate moment we've had, it's shattered. "What's wrong?" It's remarkably embarrassing how Eric drops everything he's doing to check on my stupid wellbeing. He scans my form whilst patting my shoulders and back. Checking for non-existent damage, I believe. Once he does a temperature check with the back of his hand, his brows furrow in confusion. "Anna?"

Sheepishly clearing my throat, I struggle with what to say. "Err, yeah." I swallow thickly. The fear of not being good enough resurfacing. I should've practiced. Eric of all people would've high standards. Taya told me that he was very particular about certain things. There's no doubt that I'm a bad kisser. It must've been the first thought on his mind. "Nothing."

He frowns deeply. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I wave a hand nonchalantly. "Everything's fine." My heart pounds in my chest, a sinking feeling settling in. I can no longer make eye contact.

He abruptly takes a step back when I slide off the ledge. Without wasting a second, I pat down my leggings and grab my gun. "Did I do something?" he asks.

I turn to him, confused. He stares at me, the creases at his brow as deep as before. "No, you didn't. It's nothing, really." I take the first step down the stair when I remember the dangling flag. "Come, we should get back," I do my best to sound normal. It wouldn't do me good if things blew up. I extend his gun to him, green flag in hand. He doesn't say anything.

My team cheers when I appear with both flags in hand. Skylar is the loudest of them all, hooting and telling everyone how her plan was fool-proof. I politely declined when some members were about to carry me up, blaming it on nausea. The sinking feeling grew when the both of us silently walked to the train's pick-up point. Eric didn't strike up conversation, but I could tell he wanted to. I did grudgingly reassure that everything was fine. However just like me, he knew it wasn't.

"You should put this on." Extended towards me is his black jacket. The train is due to arrive in a minute.

My first instinct is to decline, but the look he's giving me indicates that he weirdly serious. I accept it. "Okay."

I made sure to pick a car without Skylar on it. I was hoping to be left alone with my thoughts, but I wasn't surprised when Eric continued by my side. "Did you regret it?" he asks quietly.

A new string of thought is resurfacing. Waves of guilt crashing into me like ice-cold water. Have I made a mistake?

I inhale deeply. "No." I pull the jacket tighter around me. "No, I don't."

* * *

**A/N**

**Credits to my time management for making this possible.**

**This was a nice chapter, until it wasn't. But rest assured, the next one will be hella adorable (and painful). **

**My trials are coming up, so I'll only be posting after two weeks (14 days from now). Thanks so much for the support and reviews :) Puts a smile to my face when I wake up.**


	34. 34

"Go away."

The scratching at the door continues. Despite lying in bed for over ten hours, my head still throbs. I stare blankly at the wall for a full minute. My eyes ache and my stomach hurts. I want to go back to bed. "Alright, alright. Dammit."

"Hawk knows the password, just open the door yourselves when you guys get back." I don't give my dogs time to reply before the door shuts in their face. They should be able to handle by themselves. Last time I checked, there aren't any snakes here like back in Amity. No way they could run into trouble this early in the morning. In the event they did, I couldn't care less.

* * *

10:03 am. I blink a few times, not comprehending what I'm seeing. It's ten in the morning; on a Monday. My brows knit together. I should be at work. At that thought, I turn over in my bed. I don't want to go to work.

Ever since what happened, I can't bring myself to confront Eric. My true intentions of why I transferred are resurfacing. Everything is going so fast that I don't know what to do. Eric would find out eventually, it's just a matter of time. I don't know how he would react. With how things are moving, my betrayal will destroy everything between us. Even at the thought of it, my limbs go weak. I don't want him to leave.

However, the icy tendril around my neck isn't the from the trifling, inevitable fear of abandonment. It is from knowing that my actions will undoubtedly break him. Four has countlessly reminded me that I'm the only one he treats differently. Since I came, the trainer has expressed his confusion on the merciless leader's actions. Skylar too has been unnecessarily vocal on how Eric has changed for the better – despite not particularly having a good relationship with him.

I am afraid of what will become of him. Despite having heard of Eric's previous questionable actions, I still can't picture any of that on him. Everything I've heard seems so foreign, almost like two different people but with the same name. The Eric I've grown to know is almost the complete opposite. Sure, there are times where he can be brash, but that's often because the situation calls for it. His actions are understandable, and in many ways, relatable. It doesn't seem he's making a conscious effort to switch between alter-egos either. He feels genuine. And I don't want him to change.

A part of me wants to tell him now, face the issue head-on with courage. This is what Dauntless has prepared me for, to dive headfirst into the problem, solve it, and move on. Especially when it comes to those you care for. Yet, this problem can't be solved. At least, not any time soon. How does anyone tell their partner that they are going behind their back and everything they've worked for?

Taking a deep breath, I push all my thoughts to the back of my mind. The dull ache in my chest remains as it did since War Games. It about time I exit my bubble of misery and embarrassment. I had already wasted a whole of yesterday doing nothing but moping and eating a horrible attempt of ice-cream. The ice-cream Riley taught me came nothing close to what I had in Candor. I'm never making it again.

* * *

Eric entering my home uninvited doesn't faze me.

10:21 am. The time displayed on my phone flashes disapprovingly. My dogs were supposed to have breakfast over two hours ago. I yank the bedroom door open, shirt over my shoulder in haste to feed my pups. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you guys wake…" my voice dies.

The only dog present is Sabre. He turns at the sound of my voice, bounding over to greet me. I stare at the between the running television and the outrageously elated animal, confused. "You don't know how to turn the tv on, right?" Sabre is smart, but not to this extent. Even if he tried, I'm sure he's non-flexible paw would've made it impossible. No way he could've done it himself.

It takes a while before I notice.

Water droplets are glistening on the dog bowls. Someone was here. I hastily pull my shirt through my head and walk towards the fridge. Flushing slightly at the possibility of being caught topless. Inside I find a missing tube of meat that was their breakfast. For a moment I thought that perhaps I unconsciously fed them and had forgotten, but the untouched chicken feet and liver tells me otherwise. I wouldn't have left them out. Placing their dinner into the fridge to defrost, I travel to the drying rack and examine the bowls.

There's only one person I could think of that could've been here – Eric. I highly doubt anyone else would've gone as far as to feed my dogs, especially since no one else knows of my routine. The only reason he knows is because I ramble to him more than I'd like to admit.

A note's on the counter, as well as a bottle of pills. Drawing in a breath, I edge towards it and lift the torn piece of paper. It's written in neat black ink, an ink I recognize whenever Eric and I are brainstorming. He always carries the pen in his vest front pocket.

_Anna,_

_You're not alright. I left some paracetamol, not sure if it would help._

_Found the dogs outside your apartment. They were having trouble opening the door. _

_I've fed them already (probably got the portions wrong). I decided having all three remain with you would be too much to handle, so I brought the other two to their respective places. Left Sabre here, figured you'd enjoy the company. _

_I've informed Skylar and Liam that you're not feeling well. If you want the dogs back, just give them a call._

_Someone else is covering for you, take the day off. _

_Sorry I couldn't stay, have an urgent meeting at Abnegation. _

_I'm worried about you._

_Text me._

_ \- __Coulter_

I read it a few times, my thumb unconsciously moving across the words. The aching in my heart intensifies, to the point I have to shut my eyes, hold my breath, and count to ten.

* * *

"No, it's fine," Veronica waves me off, returning to the documents at hand. "I owe Eric a few favors. This is nothing."

I stand at the door of her office, Sabre by my side. Though I did toy with Eric's suggestion of taking the day off, I knew I need to make it up to him. "Really, I'm well now. I can take it from here."

"You sure don't look well," she says pointedly. Her pen is aimed at me. "You look like you haven't been sleeping and eating."

That is true - not that it matters. "I had eight hours of sleep and I took some pills earlier," I approach differently, stifling the growing irritation of her not wanting to work less. "Don't want to stay home, I'm getting sick of it."

The leader is unwavering, her gaze remaining skeptical. "Look, I-"

"Please."

The female leader pauses, placing her pen down and leaning back on her chair. She regards me carefully, scanning me head-to-toe and then doing the same to my canine. I do my best to smile. She repeats the process a few more times. After the third, my arms wrap themselves around my body self-consciously. Unlike me, Veronica's hair is pulled back neatly. Her raven black hair gleams under the white lights, reflecting the time and effort she spent combing tucking in her stray hairs. Her clothes too, are sleek and creaseless. Standing before her now, I regret not appearing more presentable. My hair is down and messy at the ends, an attempt to cover the mark Eric left on my neck. My standard shirt and hoodie screams casual, but there's no way I'm getting one of those horrid Dauntless jackets. "Is something wrong?"

"I-" My voice dies, the words stuck on my throat. Breaking down and pouring out my struggles is the last thing I want to do to someone I barely know.

"Eric said you were down with a fever. Doesn't look like it." I stare blankly. She sighs heavily.

_I'm worried about you. _Four simple words straight to my heart. It doesn't take a genius to know that he's putting it lightly. I had seen the way he reacted when the girl at the fields – I - disappeared, the absolute anguish and wrath had reflected upon his harsh actions. Yet despite my knowledge, I did it again. Foolishly I shut him out and left him in the dark. My replies to all his recent texts were choppy and distant – tainted with the sour feeling of guilt – to the point he stopped striking conversation entirely. In retrospect, I can see how my actions were wrong. To him, it must've looked like me chucking our new milestone to the bin.

Yet through it all, he still wrote this note. Through it all, he took over the dogs and provided me medication. Through it all, he's not demanding answers. He's giving me space despite his suffering.

My throat tightens.

"Alright, alright," Veronica concedes. She riffles through a stack of documents and pulls out a large chunk. Placing it on the desk, she rests a hand on top. "This is what he left me. If you're not feeling well, feel free to bring it over, or text me if I'm not around."

I bundle the reports into my arms, thankful she dropped the subject. "Thanks." For once, I'm happy with the weight of work. It's about time I make it up to him.

Veronica stops me as I'm about to escape through the door. "Hey Anna?"

My hand hovers above the knob, the desire to bolt tensing my muscles. I don't turn to face her. "Yeah?"

Her tone is soft, almost motherly. It causes me to recoil further. "Whatever happened, I just want you to know that everything will be alright." I tighten my hold around the reports, tears welling in my eyes. She doesn't know what she's talking about.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I force out a 'thanks' and leave the room. Sabre is as eager to escape as I am.

* * *

Four pisses me off.

"You look like you rose from the dead." Straight to the point. Brutally honest. Annoying.

My eye twitches. I drop the duffle bag with a 'thump' and shoot Four an exasperated glare. "Duly noted." Crouching down to unzip the bag, I pull out a plastic gun. Hawk is first to want a good sniff. He nudges the gun with his snout, loudly blowing air from his nostrils when he's done with a section. "I want to try something different today," I say, voice clipped. Sabre squeezes between Hawk and me, pushing his brother away with his bulky form.

"You want to shoot your dogs," Four states disapprovingly. "They may go blind if it hits them in the eye." He crosses his arms and glances between the curious dogs and black gun. A scowl makes its way to my face, once again, I push the feelings down. I'm beginning to realize that the only person where I don't actively tolerate is the man I've been avoiding. To a certain degree, everyone here grates on my nerves. And I've yet to identify the exact reason why.

I toy with the idea of mockingly waving the foam balls, but ultimately decided against. Credits go to Skylar and Four for incessantly testing my temper. I'd like to believe that I'm getting better at controlling it. "That's why we'll be using foam balls," as I speak tensely, I slip goggles onto Hawk. "I'm not sure whether it will work as well, since the weight will affect the ball's travel, but it's all I got for now." The lack of gunshot noise will also be an issue, but I'll figure out a compromise eventually.

Four accepts the black bag I civilly held out. "Huh." His brows are knitted together as he flips the bag over. The balls are slightly bigger than a grape, originally used for 'kid-friendly' wars – as Skylar puts it.

"The current challenge is to make sure that the dogs equate the flying balls as danger, not as playtime." I begin methodically loading the balls into the toy gun. This whole thing feels stupid, considering how vicious my dogs are. "We can begin with the same training as the knife, Hawk should be quick to pick up on that. Once that happens, the other two will follow."

"I've just thought of something," the grown man wheezes, his breaths coming as grunts. Gunner is hanging off Four's arm. John's improved bite-suit is as good as he described. Four would've outright disagreed to help the dogs if he saw the previous one. There's not a single tear or scratch on the one he's wearing, the soft but firm material absorbing all of the impact. The toy gun is on the ground, dropped once again from another successful attempt.

"What?" The dog whips his head side to side, bringing Four stumbling along with his lurches. Watching Four being chewed up does wonders on cleansing my occasional hostility towards him. Four, understandably, doesn't share the same enthusiasm, gesturing furiously at the dog with his eyes. I take an extra second before calling my boy off. "Break."

He lets out a sigh of relief and rotates he's battered arm. "I want to know…" He pats a wagging Gunner on the head and reaches for the gun. "Does Eric know about this?"

Peeling off his goggles, I hand Gunner a piece of jerky. "About?" I ask guardedly. Sabre rises from his place uncalled, excited for his turn. I often suspect that given the opportunity, he would gladly leave bite marks on everyone, whether they're in the bite-suit or not.

"About you training your dogs to become killing machines," he states simply. "Isn't he suspicious about the fact that you disappear almost every evening for two hours?"

I frown. "Why does it matter? I'm sure Eric is aware." If Eric has researched the breeds' history, there's no doubt that he knows what the dogs are capable of. Even if he didn't, he has probably seen how rough my dogs can get back in the fields. "He doesn't ask about my whereabouts." Unless it's for lunch or dinner.

"And if he did the same? Disappear for a few hours with a girl every day?" Four questions suddenly.

I squint, unsure of what he's going at. Eric and Taya have already told me of how they had cut ties sexually, and Taya's aura is anything but conniving. "He doesn't." At least, I believe he doesn't. "But if he did, I understand why."

"So you wouldn't mind if he's meeting someone else?" Four asks, surprised.

I shake my head and stretch my arms to the ceiling. "Of course I would mind. Though, I rather he hurt me than I him."

* * *

Eric didn't appear at the office the whole day.

"Hey, sorry. I'm pretty sure I don't have enough credits for this, but could you help me check?" I gesture towards the basket of groceries. It's barely been a month since I started, I doubt points are out already.

The cashier's lip twists down to a scowl. She's chewing a piece of gum, the action matching the obnoxious vibe radiating off her. She has a septum ring. The jewelry is plain, thick and ugly, circling all the way. It reminds me of the ones on ill-tempered bulls. To some extent, I'm beginning to see the resemblance. I focus my energy on my maintaining fake smile.

I dwindle my thumbs as I wait, not wanting to be infuriated by the sight of her. I'm in a better mood now that I've yanked out my pessimistic self by the distraction of work and training. As long as I can continue ignoring the black hole that's sucking me in, I should be able to return to normal.

I flip the packet of macadamia nuts on my palm. Mom always made desserts whenever I'm in a low, so I figured I could start making up to Eric by baking cookies. I've yet to figure out his food preference, so these should be a safe option.

Bull Nose's sudden outburst makes me wince. "Do you think you're funny?" the cashier snarls viciously. She slams the mouse harshly on the table. My ears sting. "What? You think that just because you're dating a leader that you're higher than everyone else?"

My brain goes slack. I blink.

"Well listen here you bitch," the pink-haired woman leans forward, her voice dipping dangerously low. "He'll dispose of you once he's done. And once that happens, you'll be no one." I am still unable to process the situation, my thoughts muddled with recalling measurements for cookies. "Then everything will come biting your disgusting ass." For once, I'm glad my dogs aren't with me. Because if they were, this woman may no longer see the light of day, unintentionally. She's lucky, for Hawk was very adamant about coming along.

I have no idea how to respond to the sudden outburst and threat. My head wants me to walk away, but I need her to ring up the food. The cashier fumes in front of me. Her face is red and her muscles are tense. She resembles the bulls when their peace serum dosage is overdue, solidifying her name as Bull Nose.

Lucky for me, the commotion had attracted her colleague. I recognize the girl as the cashier during the run-in with Mark. She registers my confused face, and then non-existent steam coming from her co-worker. It takes her a while to assess the situation. I give her all the time in the world, thrumming my fingers on the counter idly. There's nothing else to do anyway.

Belatedly, her eyes widen in horror, the situation clicking in place. She rushes to us, a can of baked beans in hand. "Polly, could you help with the baked beans refill? I'll take over." Polly sneers at the younger girl for treating her like the kid she is. Nonetheless, she ultimately snatches the can and stomps off like the children at daycare when Hawk has to leave.

"Entitled whore," she mutters, deliberately ramming into me.

The girl's voice rushes to distract me. "I'm so sorry. Can I help you with something?" Her clasped hands tremble in fear. I'm unsure of her emotions, but I can tell she's expecting me to whip out a gun and threaten them. I only have a knife though, she's safe.

It would be a different story if Eric were around.

"I just wanted to check if I had enough points to purchase these."

Her first reaction is to frown in confusion. To her credit, she recovers quickly, her sight following the basket I'm point at. "Sure sure! Let me just…" she turns to the screen and leans forward. A second later, her face sour.

As her reaction is negative like Bull Nose's, I speak up. "Is something wrong?"

Her head lifts to me, eyes far dimmer than I've seen from her. "No. You have _more_ _than enough_. Is there anything else?" Her voice has dropped all its politeness, bordering dangerously to downright rude.

"What do you mean there's_ more than enough_?" Surely I don't have much. I did spend a hefty sum on clothing, hair, tattoos, and apple ciders during initiation, not to mention my recent shopping spree for household items.

"You can go to Human Resources if you have a problem. We only do consumables here." Her voice borders close to hostility. I refrain from saying anything else as she starts to robotically scan the week's worth of food. "And by the way, you can check your points on your _phone_."

Now it's my turn to frown. I don't recall seeing anything about points on my phone. "Oh. Is it an app?" I ask, genuinely confused. My phone greets me with no reply from Eric. I swipe up, crushing the disappointment to focus on the task at hand. It's not a big deal, perhaps he's been busy.

_Unlikely._

Eric's never not responded.

She grits her teeth. Her grip on the packaged meat is too tight. No doubt marks will be left. "Yes. It's on the _first _page."

It's not on the first page, nor anywhere for the matter.

* * *

"I'm afraid we can't disclose the origins of the large sum," the woman says kindly, extending my phone back to me. She's amused by my flustered expression.

I took the cashiers advice and headed to Human Resources. It's a surprise there's still people here. Office hours ended four hours ago. Dauntless must have way more issues than I thought.

The Dauntless lady re-downloaded the app, informing me earlier that I must've accidentally deleted it. "But this directly affects me. Why not?" I push. There's no way I came here for nothing. "Is it from coming out first in initiation or something?" The number of digits that greets me is large. I blink a few times and rub my eyes in incredulity. With what's in my account now, I could probably afford the entire supermarket and more.

The woman smiles and continues clicking on her mouse, completely unbothered by how worked up I'm getting. "I'm sorry, but in this case, we aren't allowed to disclose any information."

"What do you mean 'in this case'?" I air quote agitatedly. How is it possible that I, the _owner_ of my points, isn't allowed to know anything about a transaction?

To her credit, the mature woman continues to remain calm and cheerful. She wears a loose black tee and a hoodless jacket, far more casual than those from patrol and leadership. Her gleeful attitude is putting me off, reminds me too much of Amity. "I'm sorry dear, but the leadership have the power to withhold information. If this is a serious issue, you may bring it up to them."

At the word 'leadership', my face falls flat. Right. Eric. "May I know the date of the transaction, at least?"

The lady glances at the screen – probably reading the date itself – and returns her sickeningly delightful gaze to me. "Nope."

* * *

"Gah! It's so typical of him!" The ball of cookie dough splats onto the baking tray, joining its comrades. "I mean… just… argh!" I squash the new piece of dough in my hand. The abused buttery mixture seeps between my fingers. I grimace.

"It is nice of him… but but…" Gunner sits on the barstool pulled next to me, listening. He tilts his furry head when I struggle to find the words. "Stop looking at me like that!" I snap childishly, cookie dough rolling aggressively between my palms. "Go watch Spiderman for goodness sake. It's not like you like him anyway." My dog remains by my side, judging my baking skills and the superficialness of my rant. I ignore him for the rest of my cookie-rolling, mumbling incoherently so the dog wouldn't give me his signature 'you're stupid' look.

Gunner often resembles those therapists in school, minus all the unhelpful stuff they say after you've vented your emotions. The therapists in school made me a more toxic person than I once was. Perhaps that was why my parents decided to have our first dog. They must've noticed the dark clouds and aura of negativity that surrounded me as an early teen.

'Thump!'

I close the oven door shut, satisfied the results despite winging the measurements from my horrid memory. Loud ruffles from the couch pulls me from my mental celebration. Gunner abruptly hops off the stool, his ears perked and tail up. I look over my shoulder from the sink to find my three dogs at the door. Hawk has his nose to the floor gap. A few audible sniffs later, his tail flies up and wags slowly, as if unsure. "What is it?"

The door handle starts jiggling. Now Hawk is furiously wagging, his tail hitting his sides as it whips back and forth. He turns to me excitedly, as if there wasn't a stranger trying to aggressively break-in. Sabre wags too, though less enthusiastically. Poor Pinky is between his jaws. The toy's eyes are bulging from its sockets, it's mouth in between Sabre's jaws. The door beeps as the outsider keys in the code. I reach for the pocket knife on the counter in apprehension. No one told me they'd be visiting today.

Gunner heads towards the couch when the noise for incorrect password beeps. He could care less for the person behind the door. This is what two years of training has led to. I am thoroughly disappointed. Gunner ignores me when I tell him off.

"Shit. How couve I fogo…" The man's voice slurs out as he presumably – from the next 'thump' that sounded – banged his head on the door. I wouldn't have caught were not my ear be pressed against the wood.

I toss the folded knife to the couch and sigh. The dogs make way for me as I slowly edge the door open. It takes him a few long seconds to realize the door is moving. When he does, I'm grateful I no longer have to use my body weight to support the heavy door and his large head. He lifts his head off and I pull the door wider.

My man stands confused at me. His cheeks are tinted pink and his eyes could pass off as a line for how small they are. "Emma? What yu doin in my…" he doesn't finish his sentence, choosing instead to throw his entire body weight on me. Air rushes out of my lungs and my heels dig into the ground upon impact. One hand wrap around his waist while the other struggles to hold the stupid door open. He reeks of alcohol, the smell stinging my nose. "You adorablez," he half giggles.

Taking a few steps back with him still draped on me, I let the door swing close and grunt. My face is mushed to his chest. The horrendous Dauntless jacket grates my skin. It doesn't help that it stinks of smoke too. "Hi Eric," I wheeze into the fabric, coming off as muffled groans. "Did you get here by yourself?" There was no way he survived stumbling through the broken-railed chasm. He doesn't strike me as a smart drunk.

I don't think he heard me. "Hm? Mm." His arms wrap around my body, squeezing me too hard like he's a child and I'm a teddy bear. "I miuz yu." As adorable as this gesture is, he's smothering me. This must've been me when I was slightly tipsy. I can see why he would've found me adorable, except unlike me, he could carry me if he wanted to, and no matter my state, he wouldn't suffocate to death.

"I can't breathe," I puff, thumping his back to get it through his thick foggy head. He doesn't react. My lungs are tight and my nose is stuck. "Eric!"

I thought it had worked, for he finally stood straight. But to my dismay, the fresh air is only temporary. The next thing I know, he's slumping on me again. The only difference is the boots laying messily on the ground. "I punch XL on the face," he mumbles. My palms push his chest to lift him off momentarily. I quickly adjust myself to keep my head over his shoulder, ensuring my survival. He rubs his cheek against my hair in an attempt to snuggle, resembling the cats in Amity.

"Axel?" I clarify.

He grunts. "He want do threesum with Emma. So I punch his face." His arms are around my waist again, as well as their crushing force.

"Threesum?" I ask curiously, wincing when the arms tighten further.

"No," the drunk says. "Mine."

"I meant-"

He shushes into my hair. "No. Yu-" he perks up so fast my teeth clash together. I rub my jaw in pain. Eric doesn't take notice, his voice increasing an octave distractedly, "iz zat cookiez?"

I shall ask again him tomorrow - when he's sober.

He audibly sniffs my hair. "Yu smells like cookiez," he speaks, staggeringly childlike. "I like cookiez, else last time make many cookiez." He comically detaches from me, turning on his heel in search of his apology gift.

For a drunk, he sure is fast when it comes to cookies. My eyes widen as Eric clambers to the cooling first batch of white chocolate and macadamia. "Whoa, whoa! Those are hot!" I push his hand away just as he's about to grab one. "You'll burn your hand!"

He plops onto the barstool disgruntedly and slouches, an adorable scowl appearing. "I don't care. I want now."

"Yes, yes you do care. And you'll be getting a box of this tomorrow anyways." Despite my words, I still grab a spoon from the utensil rack, not trusting that he'll wait till tomorrow. Intoxicated or not, Eric is still strong as hell. I wouldn't be able to fight him if hunger overrides him.

He stares blurrily at the rack – at least, I think he is, it's hard to tell from the size of his eyes. "Izit all cookiez?"

"No." I cut a small portion and scope it up. "But you can try a bit now," I say, testing the temperature of the semi-crunchy cookie with the back of my finger. He doesn't say anything, opting to open his mouth like a child waiting to be fed. "And you'll go to bed after this."

He nods, grabbing my hand to pull the spoon of goodness into his mouth. Once it's in, he chews quickly and furiously, like on some kind of timed mission. "I want all of its," he babbles, grabbing ahold of the utensil to scoop more of the cookie. Mentally, I sigh in relief. I had my reservations on the final outcome. "And I want yu, and ze dogs, and, and yu." He extends the spoon to me. For a moment I thought he wanted me to try my hard work... until he opens his mouth again. I feed him the rest of the cookie.

"But I want more!" he whines. "Yu has so many!"

Eric is somewhat cooperative by not shoving me to the ground."No, you made a promise," I wheeze. His arm is over my shoulder as I half-drag him to my room. All the times I piggybacked my dogs did not prepare me enough for the sack of cement that is Eric. My feet cross each other as I struggle to not bump into the wall down the short corridor. "You have work tomorrow too."

Eric bounces on the bed once when I drop him. The exertion I've just experienced was more strenuous than initiation itself. Thankfully, Eric is too distracted to mock my lack of strength. He doesn't move from his faceplant. "No. I mum cokgy and mu oni," he grumbles from the pillow. I bend down and hoist the rest of his lower body onto the bed. I'll need to change the sheets tomorrow, and I just did that yesterday.

My back aches while I catch my breath. I considered leaving him like this, but he sounded like he was smothering to death.

"You sleep alright?" I say breathlessly, patting his arm. It had taken me a while to flip him onto his back and remove his jacket. Eric wasn't the least bit cooperative on saving himself, pretending to be a rock. Took me even longer to locate and extract his pistol and phone.

"But I miss you," the intoxicated man whines. "You never text me."

I frown and dig for the mobile. "I did. I thought you didn't want to reply." His lack of reply nagged at the back of my mind the whole day. I didn't dwell, for I would've relapsed into my zombie-like state.

"No, you never. I miss you," he continues drowsily. "You make me happy."

There's a sharp prick on my heart. I smile at him woefully. "I'm sorry," I say, "I'm just conflicted."

"No conflict. Conflict stupid," he grumbles. His hand latches onto my wrist. "Don't leave," he mutters groggily, eyes closing.

"I need to clean up and shower first. Then I'll be back."

He regards me minutely, his hold tightening before loosening and slipping away. "Pawmise?" A limp pinky finger is held up, one that resembles a cooked string of spaghetti.

I hook mine with his. "Promise."

Just like that, he drops his arm to snatch a pillow. Hugging the covered cotton tight, he speaks into it, "replace zis with mu when mu done."

I hum, attention focused on our digital conversation. My text glares back mockingly on the bottom, the arrow icon right next to it.

I didn't hit send.

* * *

**A/N**

Exams are on Monday, I couldn't care less :D

**This chapter was funny to write. I should be able to post the next one in a week. :)**


	35. 35

Eric's not wearing a shirt. I do not recall taking it off.

His bare chest greets me under the slightest rays of morning light. This wasn't what I quite expected to wake up to, but I won't complain about the position we're in. His clothed legs are tangled with mine. Arms encompassing my torso just as he did with the pillow he hugged to sleep last night.

I had gone to sleep an armlength away with my back towards him, feeling unmerited of his embrace. Baking cookies and spoon-feeding them does not erase the pain I've selfishly inflicted.

I crane my head over my shoulder, checking the clock. It's almost time for the dogs to wake and pester me for their morning toilet trip.

The moment my feet touch the floor, I flinch. The freezing temperature of the glazed surface brings me back to when I entered Eric's apartment. It bewilders me on how an intoxicated man managed to successfully adjust the temperature of the room in the middle of the night. He had even taken the pills I placed on the bedside table - judging by the empty glass of water. And now that I'm noticing, there wasn't any scent of alcohol on him when I woke.

With my feet on their way to numbness, I suddenly regret untangling myself and replacing me with a pillow. My hands fiddle with the edges of the cover, toying with the idea of sleeping in. His form is peaceful, rising and falling slowly as he breathes. I could crawl back in and snuggle up. The last time I did anything relatively close to this was when I was in Amity. Even then, this is a hundred times better.

I'll deal with making-up later. Now I'd like to enjoy the moment, where whatever that's going on doesn't matter.

My dogs could use the washroom independently, I'm sure they wouldn't mind.

But just as I'm about to open my room door, my phone buzzes. It's a reminder that we'll be heading to Erudite today.

I rub my face wearily and clench the phone.

Right. I have work.

* * *

"Anna." My head perks at the sound of my name. Sabre glances up when I paused my one-way conversation with him. Max is walking towards me, in one arm is a stack of files. "Heard you were called in sick. Better?" His tone is anything but care.

The warm fuzziness from waking in Eric's arms is quickly dissipating. "Yeah. Was just having a fever, must've been the cold during War Games," I laugh half-heartedly. Although chatting with Max isn't the worst exchange, I'm acutely aware that he only initiates it when he wants something. I point to the files he's carrying. "Would you like those to be delivered?" I ask politely.

"Yes, actually. I was just about to ask." I force a smile. "On a side note, could you send the dog to the office whenever you're ill in the future?" he asks almost irritatedly. My smile drops. Instinctively, my hand moves to rub my mouth to overlay the loss of façade. "Doesn't have to be you, Eric could do it too. I've seen him walking the dogs to lunch." Holding ropes are very different from giving commands on where to go.

The question is nothing except a poor attempt of a sugar-coated order. As expected, I say, "Sure. Eric wouldn't mind."

"Good." I was hoping he'd leave it there, but he didn't. "I wasted quite a bit of time walking around Dauntless. Was late for a meeting at Erudite as a result." Immediately, I want to counter that he managed fine before Sabre came along. The glow of red anger blooms, and it didn't help that I had to leave the comforts of my room at the break of dawn. _Today_, all of the days.

Max waits for my reply expectantly. Whether he's waiting for me to gasp in horror or to grovel in shame, I don't care. It takes me a moment to force out an apology. All I want to do is to land a solid punch to his face. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to Eric and explain."

Max is unusually hostile today. Odd, considering that the grown man had an entire day to mull over this confrontation. "Hopefully soon," he adds disdainfully. "Speaking of which, where is Eric? I didn't see him come in earlier."

My muscles tense. I could supply with the answer of _he's out on an errand,_ but judging Max's no-nonsense mood, I know he would drill me for the details. And seeing that he's the head of the faction, he'll be able to quickly suss out the lie. If I were to say I don't know, one call to the control room would dig me a grave. He wouldn't be pleased to find out that one of the leaders drank on a weekday. Perhaps I'm reading too much into the situation. That said, I still can't help but be overly cautious around him.

"Eric's ill. Food poisoning, maybe. He should be back in a couple of hours," I supply tersely. Eric is a hard worker. He should have the freedom to come for work whenever he wants.

The leader lifts his nose to the air and mulls over my explanation. His newfound suspicion confuses and irritates me. "If I didn't know any better, it seems like the both of you are taking turns sleeping in and covering for each other." Mentally, I'm scowling. Both of us are full-fledged adults, not kids in high school. As long as things run as smoothly as they do, it doesn't matter whether we want to catch up on the well-deserved rest or not. Plus, were we to sleep in, we would do it together. "But I'll give you the benefit of doubt this time, since Eric was visibly distressed by your… absence… yesterday."

I don't comment.

"Here." He extends the stack of files towards me. "See to it that it's delivered before lunch."

* * *

Eric appears just before one. Gunner barely reacted when the door opened, cracking one eye open before resuming his sleep.

"Hi Anna."

"Hi Eric."

His movements are fatigued and his eyes are hooded. He places three glass containers of food on my desk and slumps onto the seat opposite mine. "Thanks for breakfast, and I read your note," he mumbles groggily, a hand flying to soothe his temple.

My brows furrow at the sight of the containers. "Did you make lunch?" It appears to be a sandwich - something simple, thankfully. I would've freaked if I were to find out he fell face-first onto a wok.

He shrugs and grunts. "Cheesesteak. Nothing complicated. It was easier than working, doesn't hurt my head as much. I made some for the dogs too, just some raw beef slices on toasted bread." I'm not sure if I should laugh, swoon, or snap at him for preparing this when he can very obviously barely function. This man is insane.

"You didn't have to," I say. "But thanks."

He waves it off with his free hand. "It's an apology gift. I don't usually drink this much, probably why I must've mistaken your apartment for mine. Did I do or say anything stupid yesterday?" His eyes are closed. His mannerisms almost like last night's.

I hesitate. "No."

He doesn't lift his head to check my integrity. "Liar. What did I do?" he groans. "Did I push you for sex?" I choke on my saliva. "Sorry I sound like this right now. My head pounds and I ran in with Jessica on the way here. She fucking annoying."

"No. You were alright." Just babyish here and there; still manageable, nonetheless. "It's not a big deal, I'm glad you came over to mine instead of going to your own alone."

"That's good," he says more to himself. "I know I ate something. My sweet tooth heightens whenever I drink. Maybe that's why I wasn't a horny dick."

I'm trying my best to sound normal. Eric won't appreciate if I were to burst into a giddy fit from how adorable he's been acting. "I baked you cookies. You wanted to try some last night."

At the sound of cookies, his head shoots up animatedly. Life returns to his face for a second before turns sour at the bright lights. "Where is it?" he asks in suppressed excitement.

"I left it on your desk."

He's out the door.

* * *

The lights in the office are now off. The only source of illumination comes from the binds of the windows and the computer's screen. Eric's head is no longer cradled by his hand - busy with something else.

The containers of food are now empty, consumed in a comfortable silence. I'm not sure what Eric was thinking about during his meal, but I was thoroughly embarrassed after taking the first bite. Despite his pounding head and sluggish movements, he's outdone every lunch I've cooked for us before. And I've been cooking for a decade.

"Do you cook often?" I blurt out suddenly, unable to fathom how this man – renowned for his strength and cold exterior – is a better cook than me.

A cookie pauses midway to his mouth. I've lost count on how many he'd gobbled. He has a child-like expression; eyes wide and attention completely focused on when he can snag the next cookie from the jar. "I took turns. Back in Erudite, food sucked," is his light reply. "Are there more?" He's pointing at the half-empty jar of goodness.

I laugh. "Just one."

He perks up, cookie still between his fingers. "Where's that?"

"It's on the counter. I'm passing it to you later so it can be kept in your apartment."

His brows knit together and he leans forward. "What about you? Do you have any?"

Last I recall, Eric was hilariously adamant on wanting all the cookies. I copy his actions from earlier and wave a hand flippantly. "It's an apology gift."

He scowls and rises from his seat, extending the cookie to me. "Eat it."

My head shakes. "No, it's for you."

His scowl deepens. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought that he had been stuck in Amity because his truck broke down. Eric crosses the desk, stepping past the napping dogs. The cookie is jabbed centimeters away from my mouth. I lift an eyebrow in amusement. "Eat it or I don't take the cookie jar," he threatens.

"Are you sure? There are at least twelve cookies in there," I supplement slowly.

The hand goes limp for a second. He squints at me suspiciously. "You're not planning to... not not not eat the cookie, right?"

The 'not's dance around my head, unable to link and form a coherent statement. I rub my chin as if I'm considering his words. "Yes." There are only two answers. It's a fifty-fifty chance.

I picked the wrong one. "Good." His shoulders slump in relief and a smile spreads across his face. "Now, open up."

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Eric turns to me, confused. "On what?"

My hand strokes Sabre's fur idly, his presence giving me strength to continue. "For my actions after that night. It wasn't my intention to shut you out." He grows silent, eyes focused on the ground. "I was just," I gulp, unsure of how to phrase my emotions, "reminded of something."

"A past experience?" he asks airily, unseeingly.

"What? No." Warmth blooms from my chest and I look to my bored dog instead, flustered. "There wasn't anyone before."

As predicted, Eric attention snaps to me. "I'm your first?" he rushes in shock.

My hand flies to my neck. The feeling of awkwardness and embarrassment reappearing. "Yes."

Eric grins, completely distracted by the newfound information. "So I'm your first, first?" he clarifies loudly.

It's a good thing that we're alone on the train. For it were anywhere else, I would've melted from all the heated stares while Eric grins in my misery. "Yes. You're my first-mfph" He's kissing me. Arms snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I cup his face and nudge him away. "Are you insane! I don't have experience!"

He isn't the least bit bothered, pecking me on the lips once more. "We'll practice."

* * *

"You should keep your hair down more often," Eric suggests. "You look prettier with them draped over one shoulder."

My mouth twists to a childish scowl. "Except that it's hot." Well, not exactly; summer just passed. "And that's all thanks to you." Sabre is less than helpful in my situation of keeping cool. He's throwing his weight around as he sniffs out Erudite's courtyard. It's the first day at Dauntless all over again. I can't be more pleased by his puerile behavior. As long as he keeps it up, Jeanine's interest on my dogs will evaporate with disgust. Just like the glares the Erudite are throwing him now.

"What did I do?" his voice rises an octave, bewildered.

"You left a mark on the base of my neck," I grumble, careful not to let others hear. The last thing I need is him getting all cuddly before meeting Jeanine. Big bad Eric is more useful in Erudite.

A devilish grin appears and he stops me. "It's still there?" I swat his hand as he attempts to shift my hair.

"Yes," I hiss. "People are watching, don't be weird."

Eric scrunches his nose and retracts his hand obediently. "Fine. I'll wait."

"Good. You can see later, no touch." We continue walking. I take pride in my smooth stride. It requires a great deal of skill and strength to walk straight when your arm is being half-yanked around by a 65-pound animal.

"You could've just worn a turtleneck," Eric comments. We're almost at the entrance of the building.

"I don't own any," I reply simply. It completely slipped my mind to pick out something yesterday. Until then, I'll just have to make do with what I have.

Eric huffs when a distracted Erudite bumps into his side. The young teen flinches when his head lifts to meet the leaders, mumbling an apology before scurrying away. "Good," he says to me, dusting off the area where the boy made contact. "Don't get any."

Sabre dropped his playful front the moment we stepped into the elevator. His ears twitch as he glances around the metal box, alert and apprehensive. Eric juts his chin at the dog pressed to my side. "What's up with him?" Sabre starts panting heavily.

"Don't know." Sabre has never shown hostility towards anyone so far. I doubt he already has bad vibes against Jeanine. If he did, he has an incredible sixth sense. "Maybe he recognizes someone." Perhaps Jeanine had visited Amity or Dauntless when I wasn't around.

The glass doors slide open to an unpretentious foyer leading to a narrow glass bridge. The female receptionist pulls her focus from the computer, recognizing us quickly. "Right ahead. She's expecting your arrival." Eric mumbles a thanks.

Based on the entourage crowding her office, I wouldn't have guessed otherwise. There is a wall of faces watching us travel down the bridge. They scrutinize the dog beside me, undoubtedly excited to see a 'product' of their work. Sabre is still pressed against my leg, keen eyes vigilant. Every few paces he'll lift his head to me, checking my expression. His uneasiness is starting to rub off me.

"Keep calm. I'll cover if anything happens," Eric mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to catch. He's a few paces behind, banishing any suspicions that may arise between us. It's a drastic change from how we are at Dauntless. Anyone walking past there would immediately know we were together.

"Anna! Glad you could make it." Jeanine has a bordering-false smile. Her lips are slightly puckered, giving me the impression that we're late. It's not my fault that the train tracks are a stretch from here.

"Good afternoon," I greet back politely, stepping to the side for Eric to enter.

There are six other people in the small office; Jeanine's two female lackeys, three men in lab coats, and Cole. Cole sticks out like a sore thumb among the rest, his bulky figure and black clothing a notable contrast from the scraggy adult nerds. I've rarely seen him around these days, but I can't say the same for Sabre. My boy and him seem to have a history, judging by how Sabre hasn't looked at anyone else except him. His tail is up and his ears are directed to him, the same stance he takes whenever he suspects John or Four are about to attack.

A man past his prime walks up to me, a hand extended. "Hi, I'm Charles." I tense my facial muscles to not outright frown in his face. "I was the lead on the project," he adds. Ah.

I clasp his hand before it becomes awkward. "Nice to meet you. This is Sabre." My hand smooth out the hackles on his wither. The hound removes his gaze from the leader-in-training, shooting me a reassuring grin. "He's not the best with crowds, more of a family dog."

Charles ignores my comment, dropping to a squat. "May I?" His hand hovers above my dog. I nod because I have to. The other two scientists crowd around us. Propped in their hands are a clipboard and pen. It's not been two minutes and they are already examining my dog like an object. Sabre doesn't bat an eye to any of them, completely focused on one person only. He shifts closer when I adjust my stance, keeping his side pressed up against my leg.

"Anna, could you tell us the full extent of what your dog's abilities?" Jeanine asks. She too has taken a fervent interest in my pup, her gaze trained on the animal as she speaks. "Max has told us snippets, but I'd like to hear it from you."

My spine straightens. "Sure." Sabre is not going to relax anytime soon, despite his features saying otherwise. To anyone inexperienced, Sabre just looks jumpy and out of breath. They don't understand him like I do. My own apprehension of meeting Jeanine and the scientists isn't helping the situation either. "Sabre mostly delivers documents around the faction. Currently, he's working on scent work. I'm training him to find unfamiliar people based on smell alone." I don't elaborate, careful with my words.

"That's incredible," one of the lab coats remarks. "How does it happen? Do you just tell him the name or place?"

"Something like that."

"What is his success rate?" Charles asks, rising back to his full height. "Has he ever delivered to the wrong places?"

"In the beginning. There are several locations he needed to know, so he did get confused when he first started," I reply warily.

"How long did it take to train him?" Jeanine asks. She's leaning on the desk, hands resting in front of her.

"About a few weeks for him to get a hang of it. It was a lot of repetition." Cole is gone; the exact moment, I'm not sure. Not that his presence matters. I only realized after I notice Sabre wasn't tense anymore. His body weight lightened against my calf.

Charles turns to me with a hopeful expression, and I just know what he's about to say next. "Anna, may I ask if we could bring the animal to the lab? I'd like to have a better look at his physique and perhaps his heritage?"

Eric answers before I can formulate a response. "You may not. _Sabre_," he stresses the name in disgusted irritation, "is an _asset_ and _property _of Dauntless. He is not subject to any testing or experiments you've prepared for him," he is calm, but anyone in the right mind would know there's no room for argument.

The scientist's face falls. "While that may be true," Jeanine speaks up from her desk placidly, "the development of this animal was due – and only due to – Erudite's technological advancement. Therefore, if we were to speak in terms of 'property'," Jeanine air-quotes in calm, professional mockery, "then this dog is originally ours."

Scorn.

Not from me, but Eric. He remains silent, keeping his gaze on Jeanine, steady and emotionless. His fists are not clenched, neither is there a vein on his head popping. Yet, I can feel it. The contempt building, threatening to overflow and consume everything in its wake.

And then it's gone. No twitch, no relaxation of muscles, no indication. Yet to me, his resolve is loud and clear. "Very well," he says. Same tone, same volume, same lack of emotion. "I'll oversee that nothing comes to harm him."

* * *

"What happened to your arm?" My movements pause. Jeanine is waving her finger down my arm. Small blue-purple and yellow patches decorate the entire length, a result of training my animals. There aren't enough to raise brows; a few small spots here and there. Though the improved material of the bite sleeve and suit do absorb most of the impact, some still seeps through - my dogs have long fangs. Four has it far worse, but he oddly enjoys it.

He's always been a bit weird.

It slipped my mind that the bruises aren't a normal sight to people outside the faction. Eric never batted an eye at the sight of them, neither did anyone else in Dauntless. I remove the rest of my jacket - too late to cover them now. "Physical training," I answer sparsely, "I tend to be grabbed whenever I deflect punches." The spots could pass off as finger-inflicted, I suppose.

"With Eric?" Jeanine asks in surprise. Her brows have flown to her hairline. Beside her, the lackey who hates me is trying to hide her smug smile.

I shrug. "Yeah." Whatever floats their boat. "He's quite the fighter," I laugh dryly. "Barely land anything on him."

"I can tell," Jeanine smiles wryly. On the contrary, I'd like to believe I could land a few solid hits on him, not that I ever intend to.

Jeanine clears her throat, hinting the chit-chat is over.

It's time to get down to business.

"I held you back as I would like to discuss something. Alone, preferably." With a nod, her lackeys exit the glass office. No doubt to squeal about how Eric mistreats me. Amusing.

Jeanine rises from her leather chair, moving to stand by the glass wall. "I've thought about what you said the other day, about the government." I force myself to relax despite not being in her line of sight. The key is to be calm and collected, especially in the wolf's den. "You see, we have similar views on them. As the leader of Erudite, I've always felt that the current government is suppressing the city's prosperity. Seventy-two percent of our projects and proposals have been rejected by the council. Many – if not all – of these having months of work placed into them already." Sabre's vest is lying on the chair beside me. I had taken it off earlier, using the excuse that the vest may be an obstruction later. No one batted an eye.

Jeanine strolls down the length of the office, her nose held high and her stance proud. "Hence, I would like to change the current system. For at this rate, things will only become worse." She turns to me, holding my gaze. "And I've seen the way you work. You're a soldier, a determined one too." Not in the way she hopes, though.

Taking a gulp of water, she returns to her office stroll. "In many ways, you remind me of Eric, just far less ill-tempered." My ears perk at the mention of his name.

Now, if she would be so kind as to mention his reasons for joining, I'll be well on my way.

"He's been a bit tense and busy lately, but I assume it's because of having to train you." I'm confused if I should feel hurt by her inaccurate honesty. Eric has been happier since he met me. He admitted it himself.

"Temper aside, he is a loyal soldier. You see, Eric was supposed to stay in Erudite. He and his sister were supposed to work alongside me. There was a fire to them, even from a young age, and it made it easy for me to pull them under my care." Her tone grows woeful. "They grew up without parents, only had each other."

Jeanine clears her throat, the moment of weakness gone so fast I question its integrity. "But that's not what I came to discuss." Returning to her seat, she clasps her hands on her lap. "I want to know: How far will you go for the future of others?" I remain silent, unsure of an appropriate response.

She jumps ahead anyway. "I'd like to tell you a story. You're walking down the train tracks on a normal day out. You hear the train coming, and in the carriage, four different voices screaming for help. The brakes have gone out, the doors are locked, and it's gathering speed." She speaks slowly and precisely, each word clear as glass. I keep my expression unreadable, apprehensive of the point in all this.

"The end of the tracks is near, and you know that what's meeting them at the end is a concrete wall. A large man stands beside you, completely unaware of the situation." She unhurriedly lifts her index and middle finger. "Two choices. Push the man onto the tracks. His size will slow the train to a stop; he'll die, of course. Or do nothing, and allow the four other people to die." As a Dauntless, the answer is to take the man's place, or shove the man. Our role is to protect the city and its civilians, even if it costs our lives.

"I know this may sound like a hard decision." Her tone is anything but sympathetic. The stare on me is expectant. "However, if you were to save the four, you'll be celebrated as a hero. Is not the loss of one life better than the loss of four? Perhaps your image may be tainted, but it won't last. The good will outweigh the bad." She tilts her head and rolls her shoulders back in satisfaction, like she knows my answer already. "Now, what will you do?"

Is this what she said to Eric too? "I would push the man."

Jeanine is dangerous. Not because she's smart, but because she fully believes in her cause. She believes that creating an army is right, that slaughtering an entire faction is right. And she believes she'll be celebrated for it.

There's nothing worse than a villain who believes they're the hero in their own mind.

* * *

**A/N**

**Next chapter up next week.**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	36. 36

_There's been a factionless attack. Kyle and I are checking it out. I'll catch you later. _Sent at 4:23 am.

I squint at the bright screen, not registering what I'm reading. Gunner is still soundly asleep. _Clearly_, it is too early for this.

"Ambush near Abnegation. The squad has one fatality and three badly injured. There were at least ten factionless. They intended to kill." Kyle reports robotically. Eric sits beside me. His mouth's set to a thin line. I trace circles on the back of his hand with my thumb under the table, an attempt to calm him. "They took their injured before backup arrived," he adds disdainfully. "And they were armed with guns."

Only Dauntless has guns.

"So there's a mole," Veronica concludes.

"Partially my fault," Kyle admits wearily.

Jack Kang would've commended him for his candor.

He rubs his face and sighs. "I did notice one to two guns going missing every month when inventorying, but I didn't think much of it. I figured it was a misplaced or a miscount."

Eric doesn't react like the rest of the horrified leaders, his features just as icy as when the meeting had started. He must've been aware of it prior. Kyle could told him as they were investigating.

Max grips the report way too tightly. His face is as constipated in displeasure. I don't blame Kyle. Anyone could've thought the same too, including Max.

Maybe not Eric.

Veronica is disappointed. However, she seems to have moved on from the fact Kyle has messed up. Her hand cradles a side of her face, deep in thought. She's the true role model here; we should all be following.

Cole is almost smug. He's fighting to keep a solemn expression, but I saw the way he lit up hearing the leader had failed. He knows Max will lose hope in Kyle if the situation prolongs, and he's counting on it.

Hyena.

He reminds me of the hyenas from Lion King - always scheming and waiting for the right moment to strike. This wouldn't be a problem if not for his above-average IQ.

As for Jessica, she's just downright infuriating. There's something about her high nose and hollow cheeks that doesn't settle well with me.

Or maybe it's her attitude.

"How long has this been going on?" the head of Dauntless asks in controlled calm.

Kyle hesitates to answer. "I haven't had time to fully analyze and tabulate the numbers, but I believe it could've been happening for more than a year."

"Guns are assigned to each member right?" Veronica thinks out loud. "You can identify which guns are missing and go from there."

"Check the security footage," Eric suggests, bordering irritated. "There are cameras in the weapons room."

"Well yes, we could identify the guns first. But there's a high possibility that the guns were backups. Those aren't logged when used, so people wouldn't have noticed if it had gone missing until counted." He slumps to on his seat, eyes bloodshot from having his sleep cut short. "And since the inventory count is only once a month, there are hundreds of hours of footage to go through. Not to mention having to track each gun that's used for the day."

An idea pops to my mind, but I hold my tongue. Kyle's not providing enough information, and I don't want to ask when everyone's so hostile. The fact the leaders are so worked up over a menial factionless attack is confusing.

Shouldn't situations like these be common, or the very minimum, anticipated?

Eric's leaning heavily against me despite the armrests wedging space between us. Like Kyle, the lack of sleep is taking a toll on him too. It doesn't help that he's been working late these past few days as well. He outright declined any help from me, saying that I've done more than enough already.

I beg to differ.

"Did you _at least _manage to recover any of the stolen guns?" an annoyed voice speaks up. Jessica is irritated, probably from being called to an emergency meeting an hour earlier before work starts. I can empathize with her, for I had to cut short my walk with the dogs and rush through my routine. The dogs - mostly Sabre - tend to be destructive when their energy isn't sufficiently burned in the morning. I won't be surprised if I were to return to the office with a chewed up dog bed. "We would have a lead on with the serial number if you did. Could start there."

"No. The factionless took off with the injured and any equipment they had before our backup arrived. There were three dead, but they had nothing on them. We've got nothing" Kyle stresses. "The squad members were the ones who reported the guns, we didn't see any when we arrived." His naturally tan complexion is pale, drained of energy from the morning's events.

This isn't a normal occurrence.

* * *

"Can I speak to you? Alone?" Kyle grimaces, and gestures for me to enter.

If I thought Max's office was bad, Kyle's is far worse. Files and papers are strewn across his desk with no indication of any order or system. Pens are buried between hills of paper, left abandoned until accidentally found. It's a stark contrast to Eric's and my office. At this rate, ours could pass off as an Erudite library. Kyle settles down heavily and makes a feeble attempt to clear the mess on his keyboard. "What's up?"

I squeeze my hands together. My heart is racing with no particular cause. There's no turning back now. "Were there any key people in the squad?"

"What do you mean?" He's staring at me blandly, possibly irritated by how a trainee - of all people – is telling him how to do his job.

It isn't that way; I hope he'll understand.

I swallow my insecurities. "As in, do any of the squad have key roles, maybe something like what Axel does?" I briefly recall Uriah and Zeke mentioning he's head of patrol. Kyle scratches his chin, frowning. "There might be a chance that the attack was to target one specific person. I doubt that the factionless would risk their lives only to ambush any squad."

Kyle flicks through the report he's holding, processing my words. "Tyler was leading the team. He's one of the officers for patrol, but he's a newbie." He extends the paper to me. "Another possibly you have to consider is that a group of factionless could've just wanted to cause a scare. You know, warn us that they aren't powerless and such."

My nose scrunches in doubt. "There's no way this attack was independent, nor it is one-off." Reading patrol reports every day has its benefits. This attack doesn't come as a huge surprise to me. The sightings were indications already. I'm disappointed I didn't realize it sooner.

He grows wary. "What are you suggesting?" He props his face with his arm on the armrest, too tired to keep his head up.

"I'm suggesting that there may be an entire assembly. And that this may just be the beginning of something big." He leans back on the chair, processing the possibility. "Factionless sightings are on a rise, meaning they are learning our patterns. It's a speculation, but it kinda makes sense. I doubt they'll risk their safety when they know the Dauntless are near."

"The factionless don't congregate. They never have," he counters monotonously, almost like he's speaking to an illiterate child. "And most factionless sightings are women or children." I ignore the hint of his perception of me.

The morning's report doesn't contain much for imagination. On it states the squad members, status, detailed injuries, and the technical information of the attack.

"If they don't, where are all the guns? I'm sure there are at least ten stolen. How many did the factionless have last night?" I challenge, trying my best to keep my voice leveled and collected. The last thing I need is for him to interpret my words as condensing and banish me from the office. Perhaps I should've given him some space to regroup before introducing my ideas. "It has been ingrained into our minds that people must live among those who share the same values. The factionless were once us, what's the difference?"

"Well yes, but-" he stops, my words sinking in. His mouth closes and he's speechless. From the way he's unmoving, I know he's trying to rake up a response. I wait quietly, not fidgeting. My palms are clammy, and I'm unsure why. Eric has always valued my opinions, regardless of our relationship. There's no reason to feel inadequate.

"That's not far-fetched," he says finally. His hand slowly reaches for the mouse, clicking half-heartedly. "If we were to assume that they do congregate… then… then…" his voices dies, not wanting to think anymore.

"It is easier for women and children to spy, for the squads wouldn't be as suspicious compared to if they were men," I add randomly.

"If what you're saying is true… We should start detaining them, remove their source of intel, or whatever."

"No," I blurt out, palms outstretched. He doesn't flinch, but I register the flash of annoyance at the climb in pitch. I clear my throat and continue carefully. "We can't let them know that we're on to them. The moment they realize, they will lash out quicker. We need to buy ourselves time to plan and locate the rat." Especially with everything that's going on with Jeanine, the leaders will be stretched thin. We need to tackle one issue at a time.

"So we let them continue learning about us?" he states flatly, unimpressed. Kyle is a hard person to talk to. I wish he was more encouraging like Eric. The only encouragement I'm getting here is not being kicked out for wasting his time. In some ways, it's better than nothing.

Not really.

"Reshuffle the squads' roster at random and increase the patrols. Once a week if possible. Do something as a consequence of the attack, not as a consequence of what we're suspecting. Play dumb, until we find who's feeding them information." My mind is racing despite feeling slightly disheartened. Strings of thought merging and splitting simultaneously. Ideas popping and questioned in my head. The mole could be anyone, but he's definitely someone who holds a rank. It's unlikely a common Dauntless can pull this off by themselves.

"Then what should we do to identify the person?"

"We wait. Check the footage. Track if any Dauntless has been exiting the compound at night. Don't install new cameras, for they will know we're onto them." My fingers are tapping in a staccato motion, nervous but excited at the thought of him considering my suggestions. "Slim down the period for inventory checks. Only do it with someone you trust - Axel maybe. The less people know, the less likely word will get out. He'll be on high alert now, so he'll be silent until everything dies down." I trust Eric has good judgment when it comes to making friends, even though Axel and I aren't on good terms.

"Or we could install thermal cameras in the weapons room and backtrack from there. The cameras aren't as clear at night." His eyes are one line. So much so that he could pass off as sleep talking.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll tell Max and the rest later." He props an arm on the desk, waving me away. It's time to take my leave.

I rub my hands together like the action will give me courage. Now, I'll need to convince him to keep it low. "I think," my arm twitches, "this should be kept within as little people as possible. With no leads yet, this mole could be anyone," I suggest meekly.

Kyle scowls, reminding me much of Eric. It's been awhile Eric has given me that look – condescending and exasperated. If he has ever to begin with. More often than not, his scowls are playfully adorable, those directed to me, at least. "If anything, it's the leaders we should trust. Our sole goal is to lead and benefit the faction. Max of all people should know what's going on." Funny he'd say that…

I shrink back slightly, having expected but not expected this response. This man has been working with them for far more years than I. He wouldn't take my advice if I were to blatantly tell him they aren't all are to be trusted, namely Max and Jessica. "The more people that know, the less likely the plan will succeed," I tackle differently. "You can tell the leaders, but they'll tell their spouses, and it will cause a chain reaction. We don't have any leads yet. The person could be anyone."

He doesn't say anything, mulling over what I've said. This is a good sign. "At least until we find something. It's too risky now," I add carefully.

"Fine." He crosses his arms in begrudging displeasure. The Dauntless jacket strains against him. I've tried on these jackets before, forming an acute dislike immediately. The material is thick and unyielding, making me question how people go about their day under the hot sun. I've yet to find a logical reason for their usage too. Bulletproof vests still have to be worn during patrols. Practically the only reason why I would wear one, Eric's one specifically, is because it smells like him. These men have a lack of taste. They should ditch the jacket altogether. Tight dark colored shirts would undoubtedly garner more swoons. "That means you can't tell Coulter either," he blatantly points out.

I mentally roll my eyes. "Yes." Just another small item to add to the list of things I've been keeping from the only man I trust in this faction. No biggie.

Kyle stares at me. His mood is still low and gloomy. A part of me tells me that he's waiting for me to leave, but from the way he's looking, he wants to say something.

I am right.

Kyle breaks the silence with his monotonous words. "You know," he pauses, eyes never breaking eye contact. "I get why Coulter's into you."

I expected something along the lines of 'I don't know how you came up with this idea, but I like it', not this.

I blink, unsure to respond.

He continues as if he's talking more to himself. "You're capable, strong, smart, and innovative. I'm surprised you're settling with him." My nose scrunches at the insult to Eric. Eric is all those things too.

Kyle resumes anyway. "Coulter's harsh and volatile. Has he hurt you before? Physically?" his voice climbs higher as he asks the question, curious. "Probably has. Initiation, maybe." I want to correct him, but he's in a daze. "Why not other men? Aren't they more… tolerable?"

Kyle tilts his head to me, waiting expectantly. His ramble is weird, and unrelated to the topic at hand. It takes me a lot of effort to keep my mind in check. This conversation isn't worth dissecting. Kyle should be smart enough not to try anything funny. "Coulter's pretty patient." _Especially when I'm physically lashing out on him._ "He's not as bad as most people think." Calling Eric by his last name feels pleasantly natural, as if I've been doing it the whole time.

I like it.

"Huh," Kyle says dully. "What a score."

The last part was said as a mumble to himself.

I catch it anyways.

* * *

"Rest. I can manage on my own."

Eric has a blank stare, mirroring Kyle's hours before. The dark circles only growing more and more prominent as the hours tick by. "No." He's slouching on his chair, reminding me of a kid put on time-out. All he needed was a pout and frown to match.

I copy his blank stare. "Yes."

"No."

"Coulter," I growl. Eric's more kid than barbaric Dauntless leader, not that he, nor anyone for the matter, will ever admit.

He pauses at the sound of his last name. "Laker," he half-heartedly growls back.

"Look, it's just Amity. You hate the faction anyways and Johanna is more willing to negotiate with me. It's a win-win situation," I reason. A part of me wants to demand how he's going to survive through Amity at this state. He's smart enough to know it's almost mentally impossible.

Eric had assured me he was fine, that he doesn't need rest. Now it's past lunch, and his focus is only loosening. I caught him staring blankly at the screen for the past ten minutes. The mouse remained unmoved during the period, an indication that he wasn't paying attention to the information displayed at all.

"I've been through worse days," he states grumpily. "This is nothing." He's right. I have seen Eric on worse days. However this time, I have the power to do something about it.

I cross my arms. "Yeah, well, I don't care. You need to sleep."

"No."

"If you take a nap, you'll be more productive and can get more work done," I point out.

He doesn't consider my words, not even for a second. "No. I am strong."

I blink. He blinks back.

I didn't expect it to come to this, but I'm unsurprised it did. "You can nap in my room."

The proposal shuts him up. He doesn't say anything, blinking at me slowly with his vacant expression. I've just placed the second-best offer – the first would be to permanently move in - on his plate, and he knows it. "And the night?" he questions inanimately.

I sigh. "And the night," I agree. No way am I giving him the benefit of knowing that I secretly prefer him. Gunner would be terribly disappointed in me.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with my regal velcro boy.

It's just that Eric's warmer... and smells nicer.

"Okay." He gets up from his seat, heading for the door immediately. The computer is still running, the reports are still open.

I call out to him before he saunters out of the office. He looks over his shoulder and hums airily. "How do you know my code?" I ask. It occurred to me that there was no way Eric had managed to figure out my code the other day. The best conclusion I could come up with is him ringing up the tech room or something.

He blinks, wondering why of all the questions I asked, I settled with this. The hand on the door handle slips sluggishly, allowing the door to bounce as it collides with his side. "Hawk," he mumbles a beat later, walking out and letting the door swing shut.

Right.

* * *

I run into my dad on the way to the stables.

My dogs were the ones who noticed him first, running ahead with their tails spinning like propellers before I even register the moving form. They crowd around the man, jumping on the spot as he laughs and greets each one. He's wearing a sleeveless brown vest over his dark mustard long sleeve, the basic ensemble he wears every day.

Once he's done greeting and calming the trio, he opens his arms to me. I gladly enter his embrace. "Hi dad."

"Hey kid. Didn't think I'll catch you in time." He squeezes once before pulling away, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You look great. Your hair represents the dogs?" We're at the entrance of the stables. The dogs have continued their stampede to the barn, greeting every horse with the unwavering enthusiasm.

I grin. "It does. Got it during initiation." It'll be due for a touch-up in a few weeks.

The mood dips slightly. "Dauntless fits you, and you seem happy too." His lips form a wistful smile. "I'm glad you transferred," he says earnestly.

I pat his arm reassuringly, sensing he's soon falling into a nostalgic trace. "I'm still coming to visit, it's part of my job." Technically Eric's, but I don't tell him that.

He smiles a little and moves on like nothing happened. "Actually, I came by to drop off something for you. John informed me that you and one of the Dauntless leaders will be arriving today for a meeting. They're herbs; mom's recently taken an interest in them. She's obsessed," he chuckles light-heartedly.

My brain halts, puzzled.

Mom's never shown much interest in plants, preferring interactions with conscious beings. She even had planned dedicated rants about the green, time-consuming, ungrateful turds. My smile fades.

"Is mom alright?" The question is asked lightly. I didn't want to unbottle any stress my father may be going through. Unlike me, he's good at guarding his emotions when things are going the other way.

"She's fine. Growing herbs is her... coping mechanism." His reply is as much vague as it is peculiar. Without skipping a beat, his voice changes. "Hey, have you read the reports against Abnegation lately?" The conversation from earlier is gone; it's clear he doesn't want to speak of my mother mental health.

"I skimmed through some of them the other day." The reports no longer mean anything to me. It's just a cloak Jeanine uses to keep the attention off her true projects.

"They're outright atrocious!" he exclaims. "I tried to bring it up to Jeanine a few weeks back but she waved me off. She's definitely up to no good. Becky and I have been trying to extract information. I think we're getting pretty close to accessing one of the computers she keeps in the private labs." He sighs dramatically, disappointed with the antics of a grown woman who's completely unrelated to him. "She's been working on some kind of new serum."

I try not to frown at his words. My dad? Extracting information from Erudite? I don't like it. And I bet neither does mom.

I want to ask if it's dangerous, but I know the answer already. Instead, I try to swerve the conversation to the woman who had painstakingly raised me. "Is that why mom is distracting herself?" She must feel powerless. My dad is assertive, especially when the matter is serious. It's a problem at times, for he truly believes his actions are wise.

The Erudite are bad at differentiating wisdom and intelligence; my dad has retained the ideology.

He shrugs, and I catch the lie. "Who knows? She's been acting a bit off lately."

My chest tightens. "Oh. Is that why she hasn't been coming to Dauntless?" I question in faux naiveness. Meetings between ambassadors and leaders are common, occurring every once in a week. Occasionally I'll see some wandering on the leader's floor, or more often, in the compound. Amity has appeared numerous times, and none of them was mom.

The second his brows furrow slightly, I know he isn't aware of this face. The frowns evaporates before it has time to settle. "I'm sure she's there. Most of the time she's at the loading bay," he replies in cheerful ignorance.

She's not.

I would know, for Liam would tell me if Gunner acted hyper out of nowhere. My hands start to tremble.

"You're right. I guess I've just been too busy to notice," I agree, clasping my hands to stop their shaking. Hawk appears by my side. My boy whines softly, pressing his body to my calf. I reach my hand down to his fur, soothing him, which in turn soothes me. "I'm not there in the mornings anyway." The lies are for the benefit of my dad. Judging by his tense tone, the condition of his wife is affecting him far more than he let's on. "So, you were saying about Erudite?"

He's visibly relieved with his wife is no longer the subject of matter. "Becky's getting somewhere. I'm hoping we can also get our hands on the serum. I'm curious about the substances involved. Perhaps I could use them to engineer something else."

"Oh," I say neutrally, masking my alarm. "I'm onto Jeanine as well. I'll be bringing this up to Candor once I've gathered enough proof." Four did mention designing a device to hack into the system while remaining in the comforts of Dauntless, but so far, he's yet to come up with anything. This was the next best option.

It's hard to phrase the next words respectfully. "I can take over from you, it shouldn't be much longer," I suggest lightly.

He catches the part about Candor, completely ignoring my offer of his safety. "But the Candor are powerless. Especially since Dauntless are with Jeanine."

Mentally, I sigh. He wouldn't back down so easily. After all, he's been onto her before I'd even transferred. He must know what he's doing. Perhaps this isn't my business. I shouldn't disrupt his plans.

"Most of the Dauntless population are unaware of what's going on. It's the leaders that are pulling the strings. So I think Dauntless can still be won over, so long as we're not too late." I quickly learned that this whole thing with Jeanine isn't a leader-wide nor faction-wide project. From the impression I'm getting, I'm sure Veronica would be against whatever that's happening behind the scenes, and hopefully Kyle too.

It takes him a while to process my words. Once he does, his facial muscles relax from concentrating. "Right, right. Max and Eric are behind this, right?" he asks distastefully.

I chew my cheek, the sudden whim of defending Eric on the tip of my tongue. But my dad is right. The fact of the matter is: Eric is working with them, and he's yet to express otherwise. It's something I still find hard to swallow. It's especially hard when I see him every day.

"There's another one now, one of the guys from my initiation," I divert. "He seems like a threat." Cole's constant absence from the leadership's floor can only mean two things.

Jessica has him working around the clock – which is highly unlikely since her job relatively consists of nothing.

Or that Cole has been commuting to Erudite.

"Is it a tall man with dirty blond hair, piercings at the side of his ear and a – as mom describes – a _punch-able face_?" he asks warily.

For a moment I thought he was describing Eric and I grimace. "That's probably him. You've seen him around?" I ask apprehensively.

"He reminds me of a rat. Constantly snooping around." My father speaks as if he's eating a lemon. "The other two leaders often come to Erudite with a purpose – at least, from what I've seen. He, on the other hand, just lingers." I remain silent, digesting this new piece of information. Now I see my mother's unease is valid, with Cole around the corner, this can quickly turn ugly.

A ringing sound comes from him, disrupting our conversation. He glances down at his phone and rushes out his next words. "Hey, I've got to go. I'm supposed to check out one of the greenhouses, apparently the sprinkling system malfunctioned. The box is with Johanna." He pulls me into a quick hug. "I just want to say," he pauses, swallowing, "that we're _extremely _proud of you. With everything."

I can't find it in me to smile. "Be careful," I say. Dad's hiding stuff. What he's doing in Erudite… I don't like it one bit. I could go to mom about it, but I'm afraid of what I'll find when I do.

"I always am," comes his teasing reply.

I'm not referring to the greenhouses.

* * *

John appears after the meeting with Johanna.

He stands at the bottom of the stairs, his faintly crooked teeth on full display as he grins. "Hey." His brown eyes are warm and bright, something I haven't seen in a while.

My lips wobble, and I bite it down. My heart is heavy and loud in my ears, the new knowledge of my dad's actions, mom's health, the factionless attack, Cole's snooping, Jeanine's plans, Eric's involvement… It's like a hand's wrapped around my throat, nails digging in. Everything is crashing down and it's too much. I just want to sleep and never wake up. Hawk is still by my side. He's been jittery lately, whining and nudging my hand with his snout.

My cousin catches me the moment my foot hits the last step down. His grin had evaporated when I didn't mimic his gesture, worry rapidly clouding over his elation. My arms are around his waist and my face is crushed into the crook of his neck. He smells of hay and animals - a life I had left behind. It's been so long since I've seen him, so long since I could talk to someone about anything and everything. I wish I could be the same with Eric, but he's in the middle of it all.

"What's wrong?"

I lean against his side, my legs knee-deep in a stream. Sabre and Gunner have disappeared into the woods, taking full advantage of the luxe nature Amity has to offer. Hawk, on the other hand, has been as stubborn as a mule. He refused to leave, barking defiantly. The dog didn't even twitch when John threw a ball, choosing instead to elegantly settle down by my side. He currently has his head on my thigh, staring up to me as I idly stroke his fur.

John didn't say much after I silently broke down, suggesting we head to the woods to talk instead, where no one would catch me overstaying my welcome.

I don't know where to start.

"How are the dogs coming along?" he asks instead, and I'm grateful. The dogs are a subject going well in my life.

"Great. They all have their own little jobs. Sabre delivers items, Gunner helps with shipments, and Hawk is daycare." His ears perk at the sound of his name, tail wagging slightly. "He seems to love kids a lot." Despite being genuine, my words still sound forced and robotic; I try to fix it.

"He's still at it?" John asks in surprise. "I had some issues with him after I stop sending the dogs to help out the farmers. He kept herding the toddlers at the playground like they were sheep. Fern wasn't happy with it, even though it did make her job somewhat easier…"

"Yeah, he herds them still," I chuckle. "The Dauntless don't mind as much, surprisingly. I guess the kids are pretty hellish." _And completely head-over-heels for my dog._

John picks up a pebble, smoothen after years of running water, and begins examining frivolously. "And you train them still? Alone?"

"Nah, there's someone who helps. He canceled today though, something came up." The cancellation is nothing new, Four has been unable to help more frequently now. Perhaps he's held up with everything going on with the factionless. I didn't particularly mind, for I would take the dogs out for a run outside the compound. It's nice to have a change in scenery every once in a while.

Today, his timing is perfect, for I'm able to stay in Amity longer.

"I see you've replaced me." His chuckles are rueful, but I know he's happy at the revelation.

He pauses before asking the next question.

"Is it Eric?" I don't turn to see his expression as he mentions the leader's name. John will oppose my relationship with Eric once I spill the beans - if he isn't already.

I did consider asking Eric multiple times. Maybe I should in the future. He would be pleasantly surprised to see how powerful the dogs are.

"It's another. We're friends."

"My replacement or Eric?" John asks suspiciously.

"Your replacement." Saying it sounds wrong. No one can replace John. He's the only one who's stuck by me through the darkest years of school. He understood me, taking me under his wing despite coming from an entirely different faction.

I love him.

John's smart, and he knows exactly what he's doing when he phrases questions. "And Eric?"

"He's…. he's actually what I want to talk to you about." John is currently the only person I can turn to. I realized this during my episode of self-loathe and moping. He of all people would understand where I'm coming from - hopefully.

John recoils, causing me to straighten up. His eyes are guarded when I finally turn to him. "Did he do something to you?" he asks slowly, keeping his gaze on my face to catch any betrayal of expression.

I sigh, not blaming him for assuming so. "It's not that. Eric and I are together." John moves to interrupt, and I quickly cut him off with a palm. "He's a good man. Cares for me and the dogs. He was one of the reasons I manage to bring them over in the first place." John takes in the information the same way as Four did - stunned. His lips part in surprise. "He respects me too, more than anyone in the faction. When I'm with him, things become... easy."

"Eric Coulter?" John clarifies in disbelief, hair flops to his face. "The one who comes here with a permanent scowl, argues with Johanna, and takes initiates away?" John is appalled, rightfully so. "I mean, I knew something was up when he brought you to visit, but..." He frustratingly combs a hand through his hair, flicking it to the side. His hair has grown from the last time I've seen him, coming to the nape of his neck. He used to un-amity-ly slam anyone who suggested he grow a mane. He must have had a change of heart.

I grimace. "Yeah. That's him."

"How-" he pauses in anguish and looks away.

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, not in exasperation, but in something I can't pinpoint. My hand continues sifting through a resting Hawk, my attention to my comfort animal. I know how John would react, and I'm ready for it. I can't expect him to immediately accept my questionable choices when else no one did.

His reply surprises me.

"Okay," he sighs defeatedly. "Okay."

"He's better now," I add meekly, still uncertain on what he means. It's unreasonable for me to expect John to be fine with it, so I don't.

"I believe you," my cousin replies. I catch his gaze. "I've seen him better before," he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

"You know him? Personally?" I prod, confused.

He nods. "Yeah. We were in the same group back in school. Same age and same faction, remember? We used to be friends," he admits lowly.

I blink. John has never once mentioned Eric, neither have I ever seen them together. That being said, I don't recall seeing Eric at school, unless he went through a drastic change in appearance. This is completely new.

"What happened?" My mood has shifted, curious about Eric before Dauntless and John's relationship with him. "Did something happen?"

Pain crosses his face. His mouth grim. "He…" The gears in his mind are shifting, expression conflicted. "He dropped out suddenly. Never saw him again till Choosing Ceremony. By then, he was a completely different person. I couldn't recognize him." His speech is slow and detached; I've opened a wound.

I frown. "You mean he disappeared… just like that? No reason at all?"

John pulls his leg from the stream, wrapping an arm around it. "I believe something happened to Elsa, his twin sister. Both of them left on the same day." He swallows, sourly chucking the stone he was holding into the running water. "I didn't see her at the Choosing Ceremony."

Mt first thought is she must be dead.

It makes sense. I've been glued to Eric side during work. Not once has he visited Erudite for a girl, or any faction, for the matter. It's always about meeting the leaders and work, never anything else.

"Oh," is my dumb response. _They grew up without parents, only had each other. _Jeanine's voice flits through my mind. I recall her melancholic smile. Now everything clicks. "Okay."

John's eyes glaze over, and I get the feeling that he was close to Eric's twin. "The second day they didn't turn up to school, I tried to contact them. I-I-I even went to their apartment, but they... vanished. The place was vacant, the door was open and there was nothing inside." His voice climbs higher and higher and so does the speed. "E-Elsa has never not pick up my calls, and I was so scared when it kept going voicemail and no one knew where they went neither did the teachers and and it-" He swallows and covers his eyes with his palms. He remains in this position for a minute. "We were fourteen at that time," he says calmer.

It's a lot to take in.

I don't know what to say. John was fifteen when he took me under his wing. It pains me to know he's been hurting all this time, and I never suspected anything. He was always chirpy and willing to help, already displaying an aptitude for Amity, more so than me. Did he transfer here as an escape?

When he speaks again, the broken-heart person seconds ago was gone. "And then Eric became a leader. I tried catching him alone in the beginning. I thought maybe it was just a coincidence Elsa wasn't at the Choosing Ceremony, like she was sick or something." He's flat, as if reading the news out loud. "He completely brushed me off, didn't even _acknowledge_ her. He's so cold and rude that I often wonder if our friendship was all but a daydream I made up because I was bored."

"I'm sorry."

I'm sorry for not being there for him, for being caught up with my own stupid problems all the time. I'm sorry Eric had shut him off, never granting him the closure he needed. I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do for his loss; for both their losses.

He replies to my generic answer in kind. "It's fine. I'm moving on."

We slip into silence, each with our thoughts. If Eric's involvement with Jeanine is linked to his sister's death, my chances of convincing him otherwise have washed down the drain. He must be seeking vengeance.

I swallow thickly at the revelation. Fear creeping up once more. My heartbeat can be felt at my neck. It is quick and heavy.

I can't do this.

Hawk lifts his head, licking my chin.

John finally breaks the silence, his solemn mood evaporated. "So, what about him?"

"I-I…" My intention of seeking advice leaves me. It's one thing to persuade someone to ditch their work, but it's another to tell them to forgo justice for their loved ones.

My stare is trained on John. If anything were to happen to him… especially during my darkest times in school, I would've cracked. It scares me to picture not having him around. He taught me the ropes of life where my parents couldn't. He was always there for me, even when he had priorities. I often felt guilty, knowing that he canceled plans because I wasn't coping well. He'd laugh it off, telling me the high standards are for when I find my future partner.

And he is only my cousin, a teen who lived a faction apart. And I had a perfectly normal family.

Eric didn't have neither; I can't imagine what he went through.

My head shakes. "It's nothing."

John narrows his eyes. "Doesn't seem like nothing. You were pretty troubled back there."

I cradle my cheek with my hand, the other busy fishing for a pebble. "There's a lot going on, I guess. A factionless attack happened last night. It was at Abnegation. The patrol team were ambushed."

"Was Eric there?" he guesses.

I laugh dryly. There's no way he's going for any of that. His life is too important to me. "No, but things have just been tense. Dad and mum are also acting weird. I'm trying not to dwell on it. There's not much I can do." At the mention of my parents, my cousin chews his cheek, looking away. He must know what's going on. "You don't have to tell me. It's fine," I say.

"Okay."

Honestly, the one with most on their plate is me. I'm known to breakdown under too much pressure. Remaining in the dark about my parents may not be the most responsible move, but it is the healthiest. I'll come back to them once I clear some off.

Starting tonight.

* * *

'Ding! Di-din-di-din-ding! Di-di-di-ding! Ding! Dinnnnn…'

Hawk wags his tail in utter delight. His paw is still on the doorbell. I don't have it in me to stop him. The train ride home was long, and I spent most of it thinking of my next move. I'm completely drained and miserable.

'Di-ding!' The box is my arms is strenuous and at the brink of disintegrating. Leave it to my dad to pick out the worst carrier possible. I had to stop a few times on the way to the apartment to readjust.

The light brown pup continues his mischievous antics until the handle dips and clicks. The door opens calmly, revealing the man who's the center of both my problems and solutions.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

Drawing a breath, I close my eyes and force out the words I've been practicing aloud on my way here.

"We need to talk."

* * *

**A/N**

**Exams are over, and I'm feeling more stressed now class has resumed. I'm not optimistic of being able to churn out the next chapter (mini writer's block and grossed by my work haha or... it's just the cold I'm having)**

**Regardless, chapter 37 will still be out next week.**

**Thanks for reading! **

**And please follow to receive updates :)**


	37. 37

"We need to talk."

"I made dinner."

Our words overlap each other, mine easily drowned out from my sapped state. "Sorry?" The smell of food wafts in the air, a unique distinct hit. It's not something I recognize. Eric holds my gaze, innocent and refreshed. He took my advice and went to bed, waking up far better than I've seen him these past few days.

I bite my lip. Now is not a good time. "Nothing." He raises an eyebrow but doesn't push, opening the door wider.

He's wearing sweatpants and a simple black tee, the fabric molding against every curve of the muscle. His hair is ruffled with no order, vastly different from when it's gelled in place during the day. Staring at him now, he doesn't remind me of his leadership role. He's just Eric, plain, simple, Eric. "You look tired," he comments, extending his arms for the box. I wordlessly pass it to him, immediately busying myself with cleaning the dogs' paws. "Did Johanna give you a hard time?"

"No, no, Johanna was fine. She signed the papers. It's in the box. We can start once the carriers are ready. Took her a while to get the people in agreement, but she managed." Sabre raises his paw elegantly, a princess waiting for her hand to be kissed. I wring out the water and rub the cloth between his toes.

Eric hums, placing the package onto the counter. "That's good. I'll give Erudite the green light. It should take them another week or two." Sabre beelines for the water once I'm done with him, franticly lapping the liquid like there wasn't a free-flow back in the woods. "Herbs?"

Eric lifts a black square pot, the scrawl of _Thyme _messily written with chalk against clay. His attention isn't focused on the item in hand, remaining at the rest of the contents in the cardboard box. "Yeah. My mom has taken up a new hobby. I guess she's worried food's too bland or something." I leave out the part on why she has taken an interest in this, seeing no point in sharing.

Eric has unloaded all the plants by the time I'm done with Gunner. There are ten of them; rosemary, basil, thyme, mint, chives, oregano, cilantro, parsley, and two pots of basil. The names are written inconsistently. Some are fully capitalized while others are not. The letters are also in varying sizes, despite being on the same pot. It's a sweet gesture, especially with how she made it a point to paint the pots black to match the faction.

"You know how to care for these?" Eric asks over his shoulder. He's examining each plant curiously, going as far as to sniff some.

I pick up the container of water used to clean the dogs' feet, heading to the sink to rinse. "No," I admitted wearily. Just like parents, plants were far from my mind. The only thing I've grown so far were the green beans back in primary school, and it was for a science experiment everyone was forced to partake in. Plants are fragile. Easy to accidentally kill.

"I think she left you instructions." He lifts a small brown envelope. I must've missed it in my rush to leave. "I'll leave it here."

My head nods in acknowledgment. Placing the plastic container down, I move on to preparing the dogs' dinner. My shoulders are tenser than I'm comfortable with. This wasn't what I planned. I figure I would come home, cut ties with Eric, sulk, cry, self-loathe, and move on. Instead, I come home to him having cooked dinner. He's all cheerful and fresh, I can't do this to him.

Warm callous hands land on my hips, involuntarily igniting a shiver up my spine. "Anna." The knife in my grasp stills, his breath at my ear. He smells nice, really nice. It's an interesting mixture of food and his classic cologne, tickling my senses.

A stupid scent.

It takes me a second to regain composure. "Coulter." My actions resume slicing up the cow liver. The last thing I need is to melt into a happy puddle of blissful ignorance. I can't keep living in lies.

He can't keep living in lies.

Eric growls, the vibration felt with my back against his chest. "Eric."

"Eric," I correct. Dinner is almost ready. I break away from him to wash the utensils, and his arms fall away without much resistance. "How was your day?" It's a wretched question, but I don't know what else to say.

Eric leans against the counter, probably watching me cracks eggs and plop fish pills into the dog bowls. A glance over my shoulder shows his expression bordering dejection, brows slightly pulled to the center and lips pursed. It lasts for a second before it's gone. "It was alright. Did some work after I woke."

Sabre dances on the spot, his forelegs bouncing on the floor like it burns. Completely oblivious to the tension between us as I place the bowls down. Hawk and Gunner do not garner the same reaction as their food-driven counterpart, finding my lack of customary cooing off. Meals times in the apartment always begins with strings of endearments and praises - something I couldn't stop if I wanted to.

Brushing off their concern with a few strokes on their furry heads, I give them the green light to dig into their meals. Sabre dives into the food before the other two turn to theirs, chomping the various meats with a vengeance. Anyone seeing him would assume he'd been starved for days, until they note the other two.

I straighten back up, nudging Sabre's bowl further away as he unintentionally nudges closer to Hawk. "That's good. I'm glad you're feeling better," I reply pathetically, not liking the words from my mouth as much as he does. It no longer seems like I'm speaking to Eric, but one of my classmates back in school.

I was never close to my classmates in school.

Eric doesn't reply, neither do I turn to him. He's attentive, especially when it comes to me. And He must know something is up. I'm keenly aware of my behavior may strike him as odd. He has done nothing to cross me. Our conversation in his office has no relation to how I'm acting now.

Doing this to him is unfair and unwarranted. It tears me apart knowing that there isn't any correct way to address the situation. I wish things were easy, like they were when I was a kid. Simple black or white; right or wrong.

It's not.

Everything is hard, everything hurts.

"I'm going to take a shower."

He doesn't move to stop me. The only indication he heard is the heavy sigh as I reach for the doorknob.

* * *

Eric addresses the situation when he has me trapped.

There was an opened beer by the time I was out of the shower, a bottle of apple cider beside it.

Dinner was good, and I feel immense guilt for ruining everything. I hate myself; I truly do. He's been nothing but kind and patient. Perhaps that's the reason I didn't resist when he tugged my wrist to sit down beside him. A silent crave for touch, as if he needed to made sure I was still real.

He had made a wrap of sorts. A concoction of beef, peppers, and onions, bursting with flavor on the first to the last bite. It's not anything I've eaten nor seen. On the outside it's a plain tube of food, with just parts of the unassuming wrap grilled to keep its shape. The shell was crispy but the inside was chewy - healthy and sinful all at once.

I liked it. I liked it a lot.

Seeing his hard work gobbled up too quickly to deem appropriate - mimicking Sabre moments ago - Eric wordlessly passed me another from the plate, barely halfway through his first. I was hoping he'd smirk, or tease me with how good his cooking is. He did neither, completely focused on the television. Nothing interesting was playing, some movie with a lot of pointless talking and little action. My dogs fell asleep in the first five minutes they settled down. It'd hurt.

"You're slipping away." His unforeseen words had startled me, and I flinched.

"You're slipping away and there's nothing I can do." He reaches out for the beer, pressing the lid against his lips. "I've seen it coming, right from the beginning," he speaks distantly, as if I'm not beside him. The glass tilts, and he takes his time with the swing.

I remain silent, throat tight. Even if I tried, no words would form.

"You were always so hesitant, so afraid." The bottle placed back on the table is empty, the hollow _tink _a reminder of my actions. "I thought things were getting better, _we_ were getting better. I thought it was falling perfectly. But it wasn't."

Goosebumps appear. He's so cold, so different. It chills my bones.

I always knew Eric was smart, but I didn't think my occasional cracks would affect him this much. How long has this been going on?

"I've seen you - the way you used to be. You were happy, _truly _happy. Every step you made was sure, confident, without regrets. Yet with me, you hesitate. It's faint, but it's there. Most times you hid it well, really well. And you almost had me fooled." There is no hint of malice or disgust. His posture is defeated, resigned, and exhausted. Leaning forward, he presses his palms to his eyes, remaining this way.

A burning sensation ignites from my eyes, tears welling. It hurts. It hurts to see him hurt. Every phrase a punch to my gut. He sucks in a breath, chest tensing. "I'm sorry." His adam apple bobs as he swallows. "I like who I am with you. So much that I pushed away your unease, telling you everything's alright." My hands tremble, and I clench them together tightly. The vice-like grip around my throat doesn't let up, only increasing as the seconds tick on. "I'm selfish, I know. It's just been so long since I felt something; something good, something bright, something to live for... that I didn't want to let you go."

Not once looking at me, he rises from the couch. "When I found out that you transferred, to _Dauntless_ of all places. Everything felt right. And I couldn't… couldn't let you go. It's was like a puzzle piece, fitting perfectly." His voice wavers ever so slightly at the admission, threatening to crack again.

He composes himself quickly, gathering the plates and heading for the sink. "But my feelings weren't mutual. There were moments where you'd slip and reveal the pain you're going through." Water starts running, reflecting the tears rolling down my face. "And I'm no fool to believe it isn't me." He has me pinned with his words. Vaguely, I know he's getting everything wrong, but nothing is cooperating. My mind is blank, my heart is cold, and my limbs refuse to move.

His next words are said with difficulty, raw with regret. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being selfish, for restricting your freedom, for bringing you pain, for making you wary of me. I wished you told me sooner, but I understand why you didn't."

"So I'll let you go, I'll leave." My chest constricts and I can no longer breathe properly. The statement a knife through my heart.

This is what I wanted. This is what I've seen coming.

I should be prepared, but I'm not.

"Just promise me you'll find someone better, someone who makes you happy, someone you don't second guess, someone..." he's in front of me, a new bottle of beer in his hand, as well as the non-official knife he gave me.

His expression is lifeless, just as it was since he spoke. "Please don't cry."

I do the exact opposite, the three words opening the dam I've been fighting to hold back. Choking back a sob, my hands fly to my face. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this.

Warm hands gently slide underneath mine, and they fall to rest on his wrists. Before me Eric kneels both knees, frowning. From my peripherals, the dogs stir awake. Thumbs trace below my eyes, catching falling tears. "I'm sorry."

Air rushes out of his lungs the second I crash into him. My arms curl around his neck tightly and I squeeze my eyes shut. "Don't go." I can't; not now, not ever. "Please don't leave," my voice is nasally and different from normal. I sniff unceremoniously, snot building up to the extent I can no longer breathe. Something soft nudges my forearm. Hawk holds a tissue between his little teeth. I muster a small smile in gratitude.

Eric's arms loosely circle my waist noncommittally. "Look, we can't." His tone is still inanimate, like a worn-out teacher's. "It's all just a vicious cycle. It doesn't change anything in the long run." I blow my nose, grimacing as I realize I did it by his ear. A small portion of the tissue is damp from Hawk's spit, and I don't care.

Something snaps in me. And immediately, I feel strangely better. Maybe it was Hawk's small gesture, or the fact that I admitted I wanted Eric to stay out loud. Either way, the fogginess in my head cleared.

The man holding me is oblivious to my shift in mood, continuing with his speech. "It's a wild goose chase. We're not compatible. It won't-"

I'm not sure what gave me the courage, but I said it. I'm sick and tired of everything coming between us.

Every reservation I have flies out the window.

"It's Jeanine."

When he freezes, I repeat, clearer this time. "It's Jeanine."

Eric's entire body tenses, muscles going hard as rock. His spine straightens and his arms tighten. "What?" The tone is completely different, no longer forlorn and faraway. Apprehension coats his words.

Emotion.

"She's the reason why I'm like this," I say simply. It suddenly dawned upon me that Eric is being played. The fog in my head lifts, everything clear as glass. His sister's death is Jeanine's fuel to keep him going. Revenge and anger doesn't control him, especially not in the long-term. I've seen the way he reacts to situations. Mark, for example, Eric didn't mention him again after knocking off his points. This man is simple. He fixes the problem there and then, and moves on. "She's using you."

It's an extremely bold statement - one that will get me in deep trouble if I'm wrong.

I'm not.

"I know," he replies, tense and confused. "How does Jeanine got to do with anything?"

I pull away and stand, my strength returning. Snatching a few more tissues to dry my face and fully clear my nose, I turn to my anxious boys. "I'm trying to take her down." My dogs stare worriedly and I comfort them, assuring them everything is fine.

Now he's baffled. "You are?" He plops onto the couch, thrown off.

I nod and head for the sink. No doubt my eyes are bloodshot and puffy. My nose must be red too, an unavoidable result of crying. "I was struggling because you were in the middle of it all."

Splashing cold water to my face, I try my best to appear more presentable. Though I have no shame for bawling my eyes out in front of him, I have no intention of continuing to look like an idiot. "I'm sorry I look like shit," I say.

Admitting the source of possibly _all_ our problems made me feel incredibly... stupid.

I should've just told him from the start.

Eric shakes his head, speechless. He extends an opened bottle of apple cider and I accept it.

Planting myself next to him, I take a swing and welcome the gassiness for once. The cold liquid swishes in my mouth, rehydrating me after my mini-meltdown. Eric has his beer popped open too, but he's yet to take a sip.

"I learned Jeanine was up to something back in Amity," I begin, guessing he'd like an explanation. "I wasn't sure what exactly, but I knew staying in Amity would render me useless. There's only so much you can do when your faction is so detached from the city."

I knew Eric isn't stupid; he isn't just some brute who mindlessly follows orders. And I regret is not realizing the implications sooner.

"I had always wanted to transferred to Dauntless, so I figured that I could head over here and figure things out."

I pause, thinking. Four is in the middle of this too. I couldn't expose him to Eric. I've yet to see Eric's stand in all this, acknowledging being used does not equate being against her cause. Still, explaining my actions feels good - a weight lifted off me. It feels right, much like me staying with him. "Which I did, but you were heavily involved, and I didn't know what to do."

Eric's blinking slowly. Rarely does anything catch him off guard. His expression mirrors someone who had raw egg thrown on their face - completely in shock. It's quite the sight to see if I wasn't dead serious on setting things straight. I grasp his hand and pull his arm to my lap, feeling the need to touch him. My fingers trace the maze of tattoos idly, starting from bottom up. "I cared for you, for months. Couldn't explain why, but I did. I didn't want you to be involved, but I didn't know how to convince you otherwise."

I swallow. "I guess I was afraid, afraid of losing you."

I expected him to burst into flames, accuse me of using him to enter leadership. After all, it is essentially what I did. I agreed to Eric training me because of his schedule. I knew eventually I'll meet Jeanine. I knew eventually I'll collect the information I need. Instead, he simply asks, "Why?"

It's hard to explain. "We're two peas in a pod."

In the rare times I'd pictured the man for me, I figured he would be the yin to my yang. Easy where I was serious. Carefree where I was intense. Kind where I am heartless. Someone who would show me a different world, a world I had shut off so many years ago. Someone who would force me to lighten up, to bring sunshine with every step he makes.

Eric is none of these things. If anything, he is the male version of me multiplied. Maybe that's why we're so aligned with each other.

_I always thought you would've gone with a polar opposite. _John spoke. It was towards the end of our conversation. I had told him everything, right from the start with the first day of initiation. How Eric suggested lame nicknames; how he managed to figure me out within our second interaction; how he freaked out when I had a panic attack; how he snapped at an initiate for taking advantage of me; how invested he was in War Games; how he was there when I sent to the infirmary; how he didn't retaliate when I physically lashed out, twice; how he whisked me away when I was drinking, making sure I didn't do anything stupid, and never told me off for it; how his advice got me through my first fear landscape; how he always manages to figure out what's wrong; how he always makes things better; how he volunteered to train me; how he listens to my opinions; how he makes time to teach me the ropes of my new job; how he's protective of the dogs; how he's protective of me.

John was rendered speechless when I finished. His deep frown long gone, replaced by acute disbelief. It was very much like when I shared my relationship with Skylar, but the vast difference was, John didn't jump ahead. He didn't squeal or yell or shout, only nodded in understanding – even if he didn't fully believe me.

_Keep him, _he said. _Whatever that's going on, it's nothing compared to what you both share._

And he's right. Jeanine's plans are not worth losing the perfect man before me. Recounting every moment we shared made me realize that. Perhaps not in the moment when I was sharing, but definitely now.

"I'd like to think that we have something special." It comes as cheesy as it sounds. There's no other way to put it. "You know me. In a way very few people have. You know the way I think, the way I act, the way I speak; and you accept it. I've never seen it before." Sure, John and my parents understand me too, but compared to him, they amount nothing. He's just so damn receptive that it should be a crime. "I'd like to think I know you too, but I may be wrong-"

"You're not," he reaffirms distantly. It's a different kind of emotion. This time, it doesn't sound like he's trying to emotionally detach himself.

"And the feeling, it's just so…so…"

"Liberating?"

"Yeah. To have someone who understands, to not need to fit in a mold, explain, or put up a front." I suck in a breath. "It's nice, I guess." My mind is beginning to slack with such an intense conversation. It's a whiplash of feelings, a one-eighty flip in the course of an hour. My head spins at the thought of it, I'm sure it's no better for Eric either.

I'm exhausted but happy with everything out in the open. No longer am I afraid anything will happen. The lingering dread haunting the back of my mind is gone, having evaporated into nothing. We can smoothen out the edges. I'll do everything in my power to make it work.

"You okay?" Eric's silence is understandable. He has yet to react to everything thrown at him. It worries me slightly, though not to the point of fear.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies. I crane up to him. He's staring at the still undrunk beer bottle, lips parted by a hair. "Just… surprised."

My apple cider, on the other hand, is half empty. "I'm sorry this is so sudden," I say earnestly. Seeing him all spaced out now, postponing my speech would've been a good idea.

"It's fine. I'm glad you told me," he assures lightly. Breathing in deeply, he mutters, "I think I need a drink."

I readily agree, anything that will knock him out of his trance. We both drink from our respective bottles. I finish way quicker than him, for talking and crying has made me thirstier than I'd like.

"Hey, you have another?" I wave my empty bottle, unsatisfied with one. I'll need a few more for this situation to dissipate. We both need time to digest everything that's unfolded.

He glances and nods, pulling his one from his lips. "There's a few in my apartment."

I'm on my feet before he can offer to bring it for me. "I'll get it. Your code?" Leaving him alone would hopefully bring him back. It would be amusingly sad if we were to continue to spend the night drinking; not that I'll complain. His presence is nice, even if he remains muted.

"Your birthday," he replies without hesitation. I freeze, almost dropping the empty bottle.

That's my code.

* * *

The only difference between Eric's apartment before and Eric's apartment now, is the temperature. It's not freezing like mid-winter, the air conditioning turned off as he's spending the night with me. A warm fuzziness settles at the fact. It never crossed his mind to return here for the night.

I hope it stays this way.

Eric has no reason to have a big ass side-by-side fridge, but he does. I swear the last time I was here it was a simpler, different one. Then again, I don't go around scrutinizing fridges, especially when I can ogle the man living here instead.

The first door I open is the freezer. There isn't much in it, a few bottles of expensive-looking liquor and an entire shelf dedicated to meat. It's mostly empty. Little to no ice form around the sides, an indication of his inordinate cleanliness.

The second door though… the second door makes me regret volunteering to fetch the apple cider.

I immediately recoil when it opens.

Eric's fridge has more variety than I would've guessed. Everything is immaculately organized in categories: vegetables, fruits, dairy, condiments, and alcohol. There's way too much food for a single man, even if he cooked every meal – which he doesn't. It's almost like he's prepared for an apocalypse, _or a spouse_. Blood rushes to my cheeks. If I were to move in, I'm convinced we'll need two fridges, just because I'll be too afraid to touch anything in his. And also because my dogs will mess up the whole system in an attempt to be useful by bringing me ingredients.

The bottom shelf is what I came for.

There are only two types of bottles, both in equal quantities. Apple cider and beer.

"Why are your cheeks red?" Eric stares at me curiously, no longer in a trance. His head is cocked to the side. In his hand is a battered Pinky, long overdue for a wash. Sabre has a paw on Eric's knee, his expression excited. My boy must've been in the middle of introducing his favorite toy.

"No reason," I say a little too quickly and patently too high pitched. "I think it's just the effects of alcohol."

"Did you peek into my laundry basket?" he asks flatly - unimpressed - but I detect a hint of amusement. "And your face wasn't red the other day. You had drank two."

"Of course not!" It doesn't help that my cheeks heat further. "I don't even know where it is."

He doesn't believe me, an eyebrow lifts in question. I wouldn't have believed myself either with the way I'm acting. "It's in the bathroom, beside the sink. Same place where yours is," he announces too casually.

"You saw mine?!" I shriek, horrified.

He enjoys my reaction. The corners of his lips twitch and his nostrils flare. "Maybe."

I stare at him, frozen. For how long, I'm not sure, as time had froze along with me. It came to a point that he stood, gratefully passed Pinky back to Sabre, picked up the pocket knife, walked to me, swiped my bottle of cider, popped it open, nudged it against my palm, curled my fingers around it until he was sure it wouldn't fall, and kissed my lips. He did all this with a shit-eating grin. "It would've been better if your pajamas was in there too."

"Eric!"

He shows me his palms in defense. "Just saying. I'm not saying you have to."

"You're so… Gah!" I nudge him away with my forearm. He moves just enough for me to squeeze past without tripping over the shoe rack, which means I rubbed against him as I passed. Plopping back onto the couch, I press the new bottle of cider to my lips. The liquid is much colder than the first, unpleasantly stinging my teeth.

He plops back onto the couch beside me, playful as ever. "Amazing?"

I sigh, letting go of the bottle as his fingers curl around it. "A bit," I admit grumpily.

"Just a bit?" he asks impishly, taking a swig from my bottle. His own beer is only half gone. I snatch it from the coffee table.

"A bit," I firmly, holding up my thumb and index finger with little to no space in between. He pouts, but it quickly morphs into a cocky smirk as I grimace at the taste of Eric's preferred drink. I return the bottle back to the table, scraping my tongue between my teeth to rid of the bitter taste.

"How about hot? How hot am I?" I narrow my eyes. Surely he would know the answer to that. He takes in my expression and grins, white, straight teeth flashing. "Fine, rank the top five hottest males you know. Start from the fifth."

I scratch my head. Ogling men is not a pastime of mine – other when it comes to Eric – but I shall try. "Zeke, Four, Liam-"

He cuts me off. "Wrong."

My nostrils flare in bewilderment. "What _wrong_?"

He clears his throat and looks at me pointedly. "The answer _is_…" I wait for him to continue, but when it's clear he isn't, I turn to find him waiting expectantly.

I stare back skeptically, unsure of what he wants. "…_is?_" I press.

He rolls his eyes and sighs. Lifting up his open hand, he begins counting. "Eric, Eric, Eric, Eric, and... Eric."

I'm not sure what reaction he anticipated, but judging by the irritated glare, he did not anticipate me to burst out laughing. It started from my shoulders, the meaning of words sinking in and processing. Then it spreads to my face and abdomen, the vibrations intensifying ten-fold. "I'm serious." I clutch my stomach as tears begin to leak from my eyes. My entire body shakes, the movement transferring to him through the couch. He bobs along stoically, all the way until I sober up. "Are you done?" he asks monotonously.

I manage to muster a nod, grabbing an extended tissue from Gunner to dab my eyes. "Sorry," I say in attempted sincerity.

"I'm not going to make food anymore." Immediately I straighten up at the threat, sobered. He's smug with his finality, arm folded, daring me to oppose.

I rack my brain for something quick. Once I do, I mirror his cocky expression. "Then I won't make any more cookies."

His smile falters. "You wouldn't."

I stick out my tongue defiantly. "I would if you would."

We enter a staring contest, both of us too egoistic to back down.

He blinks first. I smirk.

"Fine," he rolls his eyes, "fine."

"Fine."

* * *

**A/N**

**The writer's block has yet to ease up. Therefore, I'll be taking a break for two weeks :P**

**I had originally wanted the characters to blow up, but ultimately decided against it. Anna is shooketh. All the tension built up from the start of initiation blown over so simply. It reminds me about life, how things don't turn out as bad as you thought they would.**


	38. 38

Eric wakes up like a child.

"Anna." Poke. "Anna."

I groan, grabbing my pillow and smashing it to the man against my back. "What." The red digits of the clock flash mockingly. It's 7:23 am, there's seven more minutes of sleep left. Furthermore, the sheets are cool and Eric is warm. It is the perfect environment to hibernate.

He tosses the pillow to the space beside me. I grab it and prop my head again. "There's a cockroach on the table."

I deadpan. "Then kill it. You're Eric." I don't recall seeing cockroaches anywhere in my apartment, even during my spring cleaning.

The arm around my waist tightens. He presses in my hair, mumbling. "But I'm scared."

My eye twitches. I count to five and draw a deep breath. Cursing incoherently, I stretch to my side's table and flick the lights on. The sudden flash of brightness hurts my eyes. Squinting, I unceremoniously lift myself off and out of his embrace to face the said cockroach location. My eyes linger on the wooden surface, blinking and narrowing as if it would clear my vision. There's nothing there except his gun and phone. "Where is it?"

He's grinning. It's amazing how fresh he looks despite having just woke. His eyes are bright, no sign of sleepiness in sight.

I stare back, bleary-eyed. "There wasn't a cockroach, was there?" I ask flatly, already knowing the answer. I reach for the glass of water on the table, taking a sip. Part of me wants to throw the rest on his face. He's lucky though, for there's one thing stopping me.

I'll have to change the sheets.

And I _just_ did that yesterday.

"I wanted to see you wake up pissed," comes his cheeky reply.

I slam the light switch and collapse back in bed. Twisting behind, I grab his heavy arm and sling it back around my waist. Unbelievable. "Screw off."

He keeps his arm there, but his reply is shit-eating. "I believe the correct term is _fuck off_."

"I don't care."

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds is all I get before he's back at it again. "Anna." Poke. "Anna." He's jabbing a finger on my side. One eye opens. It's 7:26 am. Poke. "Anna."

My fist clenches around the pillow and I swing it at him full force. He grunts as it collides with his face. I twist over to find him sitting up. The lamp on his side glows, and I don't recall hearing him switch it on.

Huh.

Maybe I did sleep for more than ten seconds.

"I swear if it's another-"

"Do you want to go for a run?" His hands are clasps loosely on top of the pillow on his lap. A look of utter innocence and good intentions plastered for added effect.

I wait, half expecting him to blurt out he's joking, but he doesn't. He wears a half-serious, half-amused expression, like my irritation is the funniest thing ever. I scowl, grabbing the sheets and flipping it over my head. "Put on a shirt and fuck off."

"Only if you'll wear it to sleep the night before," he sings, climbing out of bed.

I don't reply, petulantly flipping the bird.

* * *

Eric wears a shirt.

I had planned to fall back to sleep, leave Eric hanging on his stupid run.

My dogs had other plans.

The bastard had woken them up, fully knowing they'll pester me till I haul my ass out of bed. Now he stands at my front door, blocking the exit with his huge ass physique. I thought he would be smug when he saw me, happy his plan had worked out.

But no, I get a frowning kicked puppy.

"No."

No _hi_, no _good morning_, no _sorry for pissing you off_; only _no_.

He crosses his beefy arms, chest puffed out. "Absolutely not." His image brings me back to initiation. This is how he appears when the initiates are too slow - on the brink of ripping their heads off. I would've been intimidated... if it weren't for the fact that Eric's never serious with me.

"What?" The dogs weave around each other, tangling the leashes. They are understandably impatient. Their bladders haven't been emptied for over seven hours. I swear Hawk is glaring at the man blocking the exit.

Eric's wearing a modest dark blue dry-fit shirt, and an equally modest running pants. Who the heck runs in pants? I figured a tank and shorts were more his style. Perhaps wearing heaty combat pants all day must have accustomed him to unnecessary heat. I won't complain though, he still looks delectable, if not more.

"This," he points at the shorts like there's a cockroach on it. I don't like it."

I frown and look down. This design is my new favorite, coming up just below mid-thigh. The black running shorts is in two layers. The inner is smooth fitting, hugging my thighs like a second skin, while the outer is airy with little holes on the sides. The lady managing the store was concerned when she saw me picked out one with maroon outlines. Something about me shaking the item like a lunatic and talking to my dogs did not settle well with her. She had asked me if I was on meds at the checkout. I was too excited to reply.

"But I like it." I suppose it is short; shorter than anything I've ever dared worn, but not _that_ short. Dauntless is starting to rub off me.

"I know, and so will the rest of the male population."

I crane my neck and squint, finding a flaw in his words. "That includes you too."

"Well, yes," he agrees begrudgingly. He glances at what's left of my legs - my dogs are blocking most - appreciatively. I raise a brow.

Sabre takes this moment to lunge for the exit, unintentionally deciding that I'll win this squabble. He doesn't pull with enough force to tip me over, but I pretend it does. The other two quickly get the hint and play along. "But I rather you save it for when we're alone." Eric doesn't grab my arm as I squeeze past him. He must've figured it will be pointless unless he wanted to stop three large canines too.

I love my boys.

"Except that I'm not planning to run in the apartment," I toss over my shoulder. "Plus, my calves are not the ideal small. I'm sure the men wouldn't bat an eye." My calves are noticeably bigger than the smooth slender ones I see practically everywhere. Lucky for me, it's proportionate, granted, disputably. Mom told me it's genetics, and it'll grow out when I grew taller – I didn't. It made me self-conscious during my teens. Although some kind souls did compliment how 'badass' and 'cool' they are, I knew they wouldn't want to have them, given the option.

I like them now, though. Took a while.

"I like them!" Eric protests a little too enthusiastically, and I try not to shoot him a pointed look. I wouldn't be surprised if the reason behind is because it's virtually a mini version of his - if not bigger. He falls in step with me. The dogs are impatient, keeping the pace swift. "They are sexy as hell and even beat most men here."

"Except that I'm not a man, and you're an anomaly." I point out blatantly. He grunts in response. "Where to? Loading-bay?"

He lifts an arm at the right of a convergence. "Turn here."

"The back exit?" I ask, surprised. There wasn't much there, just a slightly denser, untouched woodland. I bring my dogs there whenever I brush out their coats, which is technically every other day. There's a designated growing pile of fur with how much they all shed. I'd like to think it's a bedding bank for birds to use for their nests.

"Something like that. There's a door at the end leading to the city, there isn't much vegetation." The dogs' aren't bothered with the change in direction. The leash remains slack, the trio already heading down the path the moment we diverge from the normal route with the faintest movement of the metal clasps. Extremely intelligent animals, inclined to the directions of our steps despite them being ahead.

"You jog every morning?" It'll do me some good if I start this routine too. Ever since my dogs, most of my physical exercises consist of carrying or struggling against sheer teeth and force. Sure, I still come out of training sweaty and aching, but the sensations are only the result of inflictions. And the dogs can never get enough exercise, so they'll benefit from this too.

Eric shrugs. "Sometimes, when I'm lazy to think." He pushes the horizontal door handle down and holds the door open for me to pass. "Other times I'm at the Leader's private training room." I blink. His eyes light up as he realizes. "I'm supposed to bring you there, actually. One of the training fields is physical, we can do it in the mornings if you'd like. It's not a big deal, just brushing up the skills you've learned. Most of it is to your own discernment."

I drop to a squat to remove the leashes and muzzles. Sabre and Hawk wear the smaller vests, only needing to carry their leashes, muzzles, and nylon rope. Gunner wears the larger one. He carries the emergency supplies; a thin tarpaulin sheet, a tiny medicinal aerosol, a first aid pack. As well as a hip flask of water and my belongings. The reason being that he's the least likely to roll around in dirt or be bullied by the other two – solely because of his size. He's also the most likely to stay by me in the event of a threat.

"Sure. Evenings or nights may be better though, I have to bring my dogs out in the morning." I grab my mobile and pocket knife from the shallow pocket on the back of my shorts. There's a text from Four saying he's unable to make it for training again. I slip them into a compartment and look to Eric. "Want him to keep yours?"

He passes it to me, peaking over to see what else I've stashed. "You're not carrying the knife?" there isn't alarm in his tone, only curiosity. I believe he's implying the possibility of danger. Especially with the recent factionless attack, I half expect him to have me adopt his hidden holster attire. I wouldn't object to the suggestion...

Once I get the hang of shooting.

"No. My dogs are quicker than me throwing a knife. It's just here in case I need it. Gunner will come over if anything happens." He's confused by my words.

I squeeze my hands into fists, suddenly nervous. Patting Gunner's rump once, he trots off in search of his own release. "I'll show you." It's risky business. This may spark an argument over me keeping secrets. And I'll agree it's my fault; I'll take full responsibility for not telling him sooner.

"You free after five this evening? There's something I want you to see." This needs to be off my chest as soon as possible. I just hope he'll take it in stride.

He agrees.

* * *

The banana bounces off the table and falls to the floor.

I have a horrible habit of flash panicking when confronted, especially when it's sudden and unpredicted.

A hand slickly snatches it up before any of my dogs can process what has happened. "Please don't tell him. He'll have my head." Before me is a man I have no intention of confronting, but knew it was ultimately inevitable. He has his hands clasped around the fruit, moving forward and back in a pleading motion. The dogs stare at him funny. Their glances alternate between him and me, unsure of how to react. Time stretches on with him still pleading and I struck dumb.

It's only when someone behind clears their throat do I resume loading my lunch. "Sorry," I apologize to the man behind me. He replies with a disgruntled grunt and a 'hurry up'.

"I just want to talk." The silver-haired man glances around furtively, nervous. It's like he's expecting something to jump on him.

Today's selection is Aglio e oglio and grilled chicken. My face falls. The mess hall doesn't produce good pasta. The spaghetti always tastes fake and disgustingly oily, regardless of the sauce. I should've gone to a restaurant. "And apologize," he adds hopefully.

I definitely should've opted for a restaurant.

My eyes shut and I mentally pinch the bridge of my nose. Facing Axel was something I knew I had to do, but I was hoping it would be a day where Eric was around. He still scares the crap out of me. Every time he comes to mind consists of him accusing and kicking me out of Chase Tag.

"Okay," I agree, speaking more to myself, "Okay."

Having lunch with him isn't the worse thing ever. My dogs are with me, they would help dissipate the situation. It's good that we're having this now. Now is a good time to smoothen out all the creases and move on. I assure myself that everything will be fine, and not to blow up into a blubbering mess.

He expresses his gratitude with overwhelming enthusiasm, informing me that he'll go grab his plate so we can talk at Eric and I's table. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he leaves with the banana still in hand. I'm unsure if he's keeping it or not.

"Is he coming?" Axel whispers like we're operatives on a top-secret mission in a three-digit movie. His eyes dart around the mess hall fearfully, expecting to be caught.

"Eric?" I ask.

"Yes, Eric!" he hisses impatiently. The tray of food is still in his grip and so is my banana. "Is he coming?"

"Eric's at Abnegation."

At the sound of the faction, Axel audibly drops his tray in relief. I watch the chicken bounce off the plate, landing with a splat. "Thank you. Thank you." He slips into the bench across me, looking less like a deer ready to bolt.

Eric outright hates Abnegation; more than Amity, Erudite, and Candor combined, apparently. _If Jessica is a bitch, then Marcus is unquestionably the bitch king. You'll hate him. _Eric had told me when I asked if I could come along. I didn't push further, starting to see a trend. Whoever Eric disliked, I disliked too – except Johanna of course, but that's only because she's biased towards me. "He's meeting with Marcus on the factionless and whatnot."

Axel nods and reaffirms Eric's prediction. "I don't get why Eric's still doing it." He frowns as he speaks, completely moved on from the frightful situation mere seconds ago. "Marcus is a dick. Sure, it's Eric's role, but Max should be the doing it instead, he's much more tolerant." Max is weird – for a lack of a better word. Working with Eric to the hip, I often wonder what the head of Dauntless does. Eric, Kyle, and Veronica are the ones carrying the faction on their shoulders.

"I'm sorry for scaring you earlier, it's just been so hard to catch you alone." Eric's friend rubs his neck awkwardly, averting his gaze. "You're not here all the time and whenever you are, Eric's with you." He extends the fruit to me, apologetic.

I grab it, careful not to touch him. "It's fine."

It's not, my heart had shot up faster than a gunfire when I heard his voice right beside me. "I usually eat in the office or my apartment." I take two bites of the banana and offer the rest to my dogs.

"You cook?" he asks politely. I've decided on my walk to the table to behave civilly. After all, he is Eric's friend. The least I can do is to be nice.

I shrug, digging into my unappetizing food. "Sometimes. Other times it's Eric." I suppress a grimace on the first bite of the chicken. The skin is overly seasoned, drying up all moisture in my mouth immediately.

His posture straightens, eyes widening. "Eric's cooking again?" Axel's dark brows don't contrast too greatly from his hair. Like me, he's due for a touch-up, his naturally dark hair noticeable at the roots. The front of his hair is messily gelled to stand, creating a replica of a wave before it hits the shores.

I have an inkling on what he meant by 'again'. Eric must've gone on a hiatus, possibly after his sister had passed. "Yeah. He's a pretty good cook." To the point that I'm unfortunately developing a dislike for the food here.

"Wow," he says. His twirl of pasta is suspended in the air, not planning to be consumed anytime soon. "I mean, it's not a _huge_ surprise but… wow." He leans back, staring at me eat with new eyes.

It's a little uncomfortable.

We slip into silence. I take this moment to keep my head down and shovel in my lunch. Axel seems decent when he isn't attacking me, normal even. I'll give him a chance, I guess. Eric doesn't appear to be getting rid of him anytime soon.

Our run this morning was tiring. I suspected Eric was testing my stamina, leading us further into the city with many twists and turns that I gave up trying to remember the route. He teased me when I started huffing, being not used to half-sprinting for over a mile. Eventually, he slowed, decreasing the pace to something where my legs no longer feel like detaching. Took me a while to get him to that point. I tried throwing a few 'asswipe's around to speed the process, but he only laughed, and mock me back in a girly voice which comes nothing close to mine.

The dogs were having the time of their lives, sprinting ahead to only run back to us, as if our extended walk wasn't enough. They are pretty cracked when it comes to anything physical. Their energy levels never drop to what is deemed appropriate, especially Hawk and Sabre. Gunner is only marginally closer to a standard Dauntless male.

He tends to pass out sitting on the chair across me with his head on the desk. It's a new favorite pastime of his – rotating between watching me work at eye-level and napping. Eric finds it extremely cute, not that he's expressed it verbally. I can tell by how animatedly he gestures to ask if my boy has fallen asleep. Once I nod in confirmation, Eric will go through vast lengths to ensure he nor I will wake him. He threatened me with his fists through the window the other day when I suggested we meet at his office instead of the slow texts.

Axel clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a tissue. I'm barely halfway, the taste of everything making the meal painstakingly slow. "I've been wanting to apologize on what I said the other night." I shove food in my mouth to remove the need for a response. "I'm sorry. I was just looking out for Eric. He's new to this, so I figured he needed some… help in… choosing a suitable woman." I lift an eyebrow and recoil slightly. Eric seems pretty picky to me, at least, when it comes to finding an official partner. I don't believe he needs help in knowing which is his type.

"You look frightened, are you frightened? Did I scare you?" I blink. Axel slumps and looks away, flustered. "Eric told me I'm absolute crap with my words. I'm sorry if I made it sound as if you weren't suitable. You are suitable. You and Eric are a good match. Perfect match. Very, very good together. I think." He sucks in deeply and snaps his eyes to me. "Please respond."

I'm not sure what to say.

A beat of silences passes. Axel sighs, exaggeratingly dragging a hand down his face. The hand pauses on his face, covering it. "I fucked up, didn't I? Please don't speed dial Eric."

"What's speed dial?"

Fingers move to expose parts of his eyes. "You don't have him on speed dial?" he asks hopefully. The hand falls and he straightens. "Please tell me you don't."

"What's speed dial?" I ask again. Eric has never mentioned the term anywhere, not even in the abbreviations.

Axel sighs in relief. "Okay. So you don't. Speed dial is essentially... speed dialing a person. You go to the keypad and hold a key. Usually, it's one, but you can set for any button you want. It immediately calls the person you assigned the number to, instead of needing to scroll through contacts."

"Oh." I hold 1 on the keypad. After two seconds, Eric's ID fills the screen.

Axel's eyes widen as he realizes what I'm doing. "Wait, you're not-" He lunges forward. He's almost close enough to snatch my phone, but three sharp looks from my dogs stops him.

Eric answers on the third ring.

I grin. "Hi Eric." Across me, his friend is sliding a finger across his neck furiously. I believe he's asking me to end the call, but I can't be sure.

"Hi Anna." There's a rough male voice in the background saying something incoherent. The stranger sounds irritated. I smirk briefly at successfully stealing Eric away. Other than the man, I don't hear anything else. "What's wrong?"

I bite my lip, glancing at Axel. He's paled considerably, no longer making frantic gestures; accepting his fate. It's a nice sight to see. "Nothing." I idly trail my fingers down Gunner's leg, feeling the soft fur.

He's unconvinced. "Are you sure?" The male voice stops talking. There is no more background noise.

"Yep!" Inside, I'm giggling. I like hearing Eric's voice. "Bye!"

I hang up.

"Thanks. Almost died there." Axel gives me a half-hearted thumbs up. Turning back to him, he has aged a few years this last minute. "He banned me from interacting with you. Said that he'll deliver my tongue on a silver platter if I were to ever come near you again."

Sounds very Eric. I wouldn't have objected one bit.

"I just want to set things straight. I noticed that you haven't been playing Chase Tag after that night. And I'm sorry for scaring you off." I mentally cringe. He must've akin me to a butthurt child, which I guess I am, to some extent.

I attempt to salvage what dignity I have left. "Nah, I've just been busy now the dogs here. They require a lot of grooming every week. I haven't found much time for Chase Tag." What I said is true, mostly. I spend an hour three times a week brushing their fur – four for Gunner - along with blowing out whatever I missed on Sundays. They get a bath too, every alternate week.

These boys live like kings. Their fur is pristine, the food is lavish, and their beds are grand – couches. They're tucked into bed every night. I wrap them in their respective blankets and toys, tell them how freaking adorable they are, kiss them on their foreheads, and finally tell them not to do anything stupid.

Sometimes, I wish I were them instead.

He eyes me skeptically, finding it hard to grasp the fact these meticulously groomed animals require _that _much care. "If you say so…"

"What's a threesum?" I blurt out randomly. The word came to me suddenly. I could have asked Eric later, but the man who spoke it is right here.

Axel chokes on his saliva and grips his jacket like he can no longer breathe. "A threesome?! Where did you hear that?"

"You suggested it to Eric," I reply simply. From the way his eyes widen to saucers, I know he too, has no recollection. "He told me on the night he was drunk. Last week or something. He said he punched you in the face."

Recognition fills his face, as well as dread. "I don't think he remembers that, please don't tell him," he pleads.

"But what does it mean?" The only thing Axel ever says is 'don't tell Eric'. Always don't tell Eric this, don't tell Eric that. Never does he tell me what exactly I'm supposed to not tell him.

"I think it's best you not know." I roll my eyes. "Because..."

My phone vibrates. Eric is calling again.

I snatch the phone before Axel can react, slamming my thumb on the green button. "Hi Eric."

"Say 'dinner' if you're not fine, 'cookie' if you really, _really_ are." Axel clasps his hands in front of him and starts silently pleading. "Or 'lunch' if there's somebody who needs beating up." There's no noise in the background like earlier. His meeting must've ended already.

I grin mischievously. And in that exact moment, Axel knows he's fucked. "Cookie. But I have a question." His assumed best friend jumps from his bench. He stumbles to the narrow walkway, falling to his knees before me. I can't say I'm not enjoying this. Just a small payback for traumatizing the heck out of me.

"What?"

My fingers tremble with excitement. I clench the phone tighter and Axel shakes his head harder. "What's a threesome?"

Silence.

Complete utter silence.

Axel is frozen and horrified. His jaw is unhinged and he stares at me like he'd seen a ghost. Gunner pokes his head between me and the table, curious about the silence that descended. He stares at the pale man, then turns to me questioningly.

"You're with Axel, aren't you." Eric's tone is flat. He knows the answer already.

I grab onto Gunner to steady my shaking self, grinning wider. "Maybe."

"Move your phone between the both of you, but closer to him, there's something I need to say. Thanks." Axel resumes shaking his head furiously as I obey. The hands clasped shake more frantically now.

"Speaker?" I ask politely.

"No."

Eric's next words are loud and surprisingly controlled. Both of us can hear him without needing to lean closer or strain. "I _told you_ to fuck stay away from her," he seethes, resembling a huge ass snake. And I'm sure he would be once he gets back. "And the first thing you do when I'm not around? You suggest _that_." His friend winces and gulps, Adam's apple bobbing down his throat exaggeratedly. "I'll castrate you, you hear me? I'll chop off your fucking balls and your cock and have it hung in the Pit."

Sounds gory.

I like it.

Axel's eyes are glazed over and he's staring at past me. I look away to quench the urge to laugh.

I thought he was done, but he wasn't. "Then I'll shave off your stupid hair and have them delivered to all those bitches you've fucked, including Tessa." A second of silence. I swear I can push Axel over by just gently blowing. He looks dead, like his soul left his body, leaving behind a shell of a man.

"Anna?"

I bring the phone back to my ear. "Yeah?"

His voice has returned to its previous flat, unimpressed state. Eric's doing the thing he does, where he compartmentalizes everything for later. It's cute he can transition so fast.

"The answer is no."

* * *

Eric squints at the rope like it's the bright ass sun. The thick black nylon rope now hangs in the air limply, still rocking from momentum.

My arm hurts. Hawk's landing didn't happen smoothly. His dew claw somehow managed to hook onto my sleeve and his claws dug into my bicep. It's not the worst landing we've had so far, but it was close. Four parallel red streaks are now decorated halfway around my bicep in a C shape. These streaks would've been wounds if Hawk's claws weren't blunt from friction. I almost dropped him upon impact.

Unlike me, the fawn dog is completely fine despite the precarious landing. He had merely grunt-squeak in surprise, the pillow still abusedly clutched between his jaws. Now he's enjoying the reap, shaking the pillow around with a vengeance while trotting with no sense of direction.

The wall he had scaled was high. It's the same wall we used to practice scaling buildings during initiation. The only difference between then and now is the lack of grips on Hawk's side. The surface was smooth for him to run up, using yours truly as a boost. My leg was bent and my chest was tilted back. He ran straight to me, his limbs finding leverage on my thigh and chest to hoist him up to the wall.

He almost didn't reach, his paws starting to lose foothold from traveling vertically as he prepared to lunge. But he managed. Strong jaws clamp down to the corner of the pillow, yanking it out from its loose hold. We were distracted by his success, for we haven't done this since Amity. He wasn't focused on his landing posture, too elated to notice my positioning, and we landed heavily.

Training in Dauntless is much more riskier, due to the concrete ground. It's the reason why I've barely done any jump work with Hawk and Sabre. We've mostly been focused on their scent locating and weapon takedown. Four and I had started real gunfire sounds the other day.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Eric asks beside me. His expression is a cross between puzzled and impressed. I decided to start off small, instead of scaring him like I did with Four.

I shake my head and wring my hand together, growing nervous again. "Remember the first time you brought me to Amity? Right after we exited the truck?" This wasn't planned thoroughly. I'm not sure how to break it to him.

He nods warily. "What about it?"

Hawk returns to me at the pat of my thigh. I grab the pillow and wave him off with two fingers. Gunner and Sabre follow in suit, the both of them were previously sitting on the training ring, waiting for their turn. "Well…" I scratch my neck awkwardly while the dogs slink into darkness. There are little lights on whenever we train, today is no exception. Eric raises an eyebrow in suspicion. His piercings glint under the illumination. "The dogs… they were going to attack you."

He blinks once, not totally surprised. "Like attack _attack_ or pretend attack?" Eric places his arms on his hips as he recalls. "I did suspect they were going to lash out. They are very protective of you. And you seemed quite frightened at that moment. You looked afraid, like I was going to kick you out of Dauntless because Gunner looked like he was going to rip my head off."

I look away in embarrassment. I may have panicked a bit on that day. "Attack _attack_," I clarify, "I'm-going-to-rip-your-head-off attack."

"Oh." He scans the area, noticing the dogs are no longer visible. His features barely give way to the realization. A fleeting frown is all I get. "Are they going to attack me now?" He's oddly calm. Either he knows that the dogs won't attack or that he thinks he'd be able to hold his ground.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you want them to?" It's hard to predict Eric's reactions. He's never come across such a situation before, nor anything close to this.

He scratches his chin, pondering on the offer. "What are they doing now?" He scans the area slowly, trying to locate them. It doesn't help that their coats blend well into the background.

"Just watching and waiting." It's deadly quiet, the only noise is our conversation and the echoes from being in a large unpadded hall.

"For what?" He's still scanning the area, turning three-sixty.

"Anything, nothing. They are keeping a low profile." John and I used to do this often. We would have long casual conversations with the dogs nowhere to be found, then he'll lash out. The dogs have never failed to deliver, swiftly taking him down in mere seconds.

"How does this work? Do I provoke you or do you just give the command?" His eyes are bright, burning with intensity at the new information.

"Well, I could give the command but usually-" I don't finish my sentence, my voice going slack in horror. Eric's swinging a fist, aimed straight to my face. I duck to the side on instinct, my arm lifts to intercept his forearm, only to find it stopped already. The corner of his mouth lifts at my quick response. Right behind him, I see a flash of silver leaping off the ground. My heart flies to my throat in terror.

Shitty shit.

"Hold!" I choke out. Sabre smashes onto Eric's back, sending him stumbling forward. My hands dart to steady him while my dog bounces off. The wolfdog recovers immediately, back on all fours within milliseconds of landing. "Are you insane!" I shriek, frightened by what could've happened. Sabre was aiming for Eric's shoulder, and he almost succeeded. "You're not wearing any protection!"

"I know." His voice is calm but his expression is unnerved. He did not anticipate my dog to react this quickly, especially when he was completely camouflaged. Sabre is still behind him, his snout twisted to expose his teeth. He isn't moving, standing proudly with a low growl emitting from his throat.

"Break." The growling stops.

It takes us a while to catch our breath.

My head collides into his chest with a muffled _thump_. The hands that helped steady him still clutch his biceps with more force than necessary. Neither of us needed to say it, for in the silence it's already loud and clear: he could've gotten seriously hurt.

I don't know what I've done if I hadn't stop Sabre in time.

Something nudges my thigh and I turn my head to it. Sabre stares up at me, panting and worried. It's the first time I'm flustered after training. The usual procedure is showers of compliments and treats. He's sitting, waiting on the next order. I stretch a hand to his furry head, assuring that he's done a good job. Sabre's insane – it's what I like about him.

"I'm fine," Eric says softly, more to me than himself. He's fine. It was a close call, but nothing happened. I look up to find he's recovered. His features are soft, apologetic. "Sorry." I nod and step away, my grip finally loosening before slipping away. My heart is still racing, the situation replaying in my head.

Eric regards the dog in veneration, stepping to the side to see if his attention will follow. It does. Sabre eyes him as he moves, only refocusing back on me when Eric stops. "He's fast." Giving the silver hound one last glance, Eric lifts his head and scans for the other two.

I do my best to pull myself together, redirecting my focus to the conversation at hand.

"Hawk's the fastest, but Sabre is very powerful... when he wants to be," I reply. Sabre takes his job to the next level. This says a lot, for all three never deliver anything below everything.

Hawk stands on his right whilst Gunner is to his left. Both are a good distance from us, their forms just visible under the dim lights. Hawk is a little closer than Gunner. All they needed was a few more seconds and they would've been in Sabre's position. The dogs pant loudly, the adrenaline rush noticeable in their dilated pupils and jittery movements. They wait for me expectantly, and I wave them off with two fingers. "Sabre, wait." The other two disappear into the shadows again, their panting immediately quieting. The hybrid remains seated, watching attentively.

"Impressive," Eric comments. I smile and kneel in front of my pup. He wags his tail fiercely when I scratch his chin and kiss his forehead. "Does he hate me now?"

"No. You can pet him if you want." Eric drops to a squat beside me. Without any hesitation, he boldly reaches for the animal who almost took him down, scratching his ruff. "They've been trained to act objectively. As long as you're no longer a threat and I'm fine, they won't attack. They don't normally harbor hostility towards a person." Unless said person has proven time and time again that they're a threat.

"Like a soldier?" he asks, amused. Sabre grins at him, exposing his neck in an odd position when Eric finds a good spot.

I shrug. "Something like that."

"But Gunner hated me during the Amity trip," he points out. "He doesn't like me."

"He's like that, doesn't warm up to many people." Including Zeke, much to his disappointment. "He's naturally aloof; combine with his protectiveness of me, his attitude was normal," I supply.

"I noticed."

"Aren't you and him improving though? I saw you talking to him the other day."

At the words, Eric immediately retracts his hand and stands. "I don't talk to them," he says with all the masculinity in the world. He slaps on a poker face and juts his chin out defiantly.

"What did you talk to him about?" It was an interesting sight to see. It happened a few days back, right before we went for lunch. Eric and the dogs were waiting for me to pick up Hawk; Skylar was extremely busy that day, something about vomit and more vomit.

Gunner had his attention completely focused on what the leader was saying, his head tilting left and right as if to process the words. Sabre was there too, reacting similarly, but it was clear the conversation was between Eric and my velcro boy.

"I don't talk to them," he repeats firmly.

"Maybe you were on your phone or something, I guess." I decide not to push, trying a different tactic. "But you seem to be growing on Gunner. He kicked up a fuss when we went to lunch without you earlier. Kept glancing back to your office and stuff."

The pitch of his voice immediately increases, his façade evaporating to expose his childlike emotions. "He did?" he asks excitedly. I smile.

"Yeah."

He did.

* * *

**A/N**

***Screams and dies of cuteness***

**Am back. My exams are starting. And if all goes well, it means weekly updates ;)**


	39. 39

Eric hasn't stopped with the questions.

He's curious, way curious than anything I've seen him curious before. The dogs are all he wants to know. It's the first thing he asks when we meet for our runs, it's the first thing he asks before he briefs me on work, and it's the last thing he asks before kissing me goodnight.

He has a system to it. Every session is a different topic, and every topic is at least five questions. There's this non-existent checklist he has to go through. So far, the topics he's covered are genetics, meal breakdown, puppy phase, adolescent phase, previous Amity schedule, menial skills, useful skills, training history, favorites, individual hobbies, individual strengths, and weird quirks.

I didn't mind. I enjoy it. It's the first time anyone is drilling me on something I'm passionate about. Four wasn't like this. He only took in whatever I say, rarely prying for anything beyond what is needed.

Eric's sessions always start the same way, and my response is the same.

"Question."

"No."

He continues anyway, as he always does.

"Have the dogs attacked anyone outside training?"

Today's topic is training.

"No." Not yet.

"Do you train them every day?"

"Yes."

"Is that what you do every evening?"

"Yes."

"Can I train them too?"

"No."

"I'll wear the ugly suit."

"Fine."

I believe he finds amusement in my curt replies, always smirking and on the brink of chuckling. "Did anyone tell you that you suck at pretending to be all macho and brooding?"

I scowl. I do a wonderful job of pretending to be upset at everything. Many people find me unapproachable. Skylar even pointed out the other day I'm basically a female version of Eric, only less threatening. "No."

"Well then, I'll be the first."

"Thanks."

"This is your first time training dogs this way?" he asks.

The answer _yes _is on the tip of my tongue but I pause. The way the question is phrased gives me the impression he knows I've trained dogs before, just not in this field. Only people in Amity know this. Eric notices my quizzical look. "Johanna told me you helped train other dogs too, specifically when they're puppies."

Huh.

"I used to help out during my early teens, just basic obedience so the puppies don't grow up with too many behavioral issues." Amity had a horrible way of dealing with problematic pets. Since they banned the killing of problematic dogs and cats – which I fully support - they used to douse their food in peace serum and let it live out its life in a fenced compound. Back then, there wasn't an animal expert lying around to help rehabilitate the animal. This issue was common during the first round of pets. The babies had no mother to teach them the way of life, and whatever's socially acceptable. This is why foster mothers are a now requirement if any pet is to be lab-grown.

Now our pet sector is developing steadily. New jobs are being created to cater to the growing need for training and pet education. Due to this, the Amity initiate count has also been on the rise. Many transfers love the idea of working and owning animals larger than a school bag.

"I had a dog before them, a german shepherd as well. I tried training her a few basics in combat, but the results weren't very good." I was inexperienced back then, as well as awfully impatient. Puberty sucks.

My inspiration had sprouted a few years back. A farmer had successfully trained his horse to keep cows away as he checked the vitals of new-born calves. The horse would kick out every time the cow tried to get near, right up until the farmer climbs back up on the saddle. I liked the idea of animal and man working as a team.

"What happened to her?"

"Suspected snake bite. She had left the house at night for a toilet break and didn't return." I didn't learn about Maple's death until I came home from school the next day. By then, her body had been buried. My parents decided against me seeing her, as I was also going through an identity crisis. "She was three when she passed."

He offers me a sad smile. "I'm sorry." It's new. Never have I seen Eric like this - sympathetic.

I prefer him ruffling my feathers.

I wave it off. "It's fine. In some ways, I'm glad she had passed. She was one of the pilot dogs, and it was a… challenge for my family to raise her. Maple's the reason for the success of the current three."

She's the reason I'm now feeding raw food. She's the reason for the dogs' mixed genetics. She's the reason there are three, and not one. She's the reason for a training program.

Her passing freed time for me to delve into research. I stayed in the school's library late, reading up on past training techniques and problems people faced; as well as crafting the best meal plan out there. Dad helped too, whenever he could. "She was a good dog, flaws aside. My only regret is not giving her a better life." She suffered from severe separation anxiety, which we belatedly realized after she started escaping and acting up.

"Any more questions?" I don't like thinking of Maple, for I am only reminded of all the mistakes I've made.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

"Are you sure?" I ask warily. Eric always has something to ask.

He rolls his eyes. "Yes."

"Is this the last session?"

His expression turns confused. "What session?" I don't think he realizes how much time we've spent discussing the dogs.

I clear my throat. "I mean. Do you have any more questions for the future and stuff?"

He shrugs. "If I can think of any. I'm good now. Why?"

"No reason." I fold my hands on my lap. Gunner sitting before the door, watching as trees and buildings whizz by. "What do you think?"

"Of?"

"Everything I told you." Eric hasn't commented on any information he's learned. Most - technically all - of his reactions consists of either non-verbal expressions such as shock, amazement, or amusement. Occasionally there'll be a _huh _here or there, but rarely does he remark on anything.

He leans back on the seat, thinking. His arm is draped on my seat, hand idly fiddling with my untied hair - he had sneakily left a mark again last night. He's taken an interest in my hair recently. Since the first time he's properly felt it, he has been invested. Whenever we're together and alone, he would be playing with it. "I think you're amazing," he finally concludes. I smile and rest my head against his shoulder. "And most certainly divergent."

I grimace. Not quite what I expected.

"I mean, I did suspect it from what Johanna had sparsely shared, but this just confirms it. Which is fine," he quickly reassures. "I like it."

"But you were handing over divergents like nobody's business," I say pointedly.

His arm tenses fleetingly. "Jeanine's orders," he says disparagingly. "I stopped lately under the guise of work and learning recently that I'm one too. The city needs more people like us."

I blink, dumbstruck. In some ways, I suppose it makes sense… a bit. Eric is equally brave as he is equally smart. Maybe he has a bit of Candor too, considering his ability to catch every lie I utter. "People who don't fit in one faction?"

"People who are _different_," he corrects. "The whole faction disloyalty she preaches is bullshit. No average Amity or Dauntless could've pulled off what you did in short a such period. And you were only a _teen_."

I smile at the compliment, even though he probably didn't mean it to be. "What are you planning to do now? With everything that's going on with Jeanine."

"Well, I was bringing it up to Jack, until _you_ wanted to be involved," he states disapprovingly.

"Is that why we're heading to Candor now?"

Now it's his turn for curt replies. "Yes."

"Is that why we went to Candor last month?"

"Partially, yes."

I expose my palms defensively despite not seeing him. "I'm sorry! I was trying to infiltrate her plans, and I thought you were with her!"

He's still unimpressed. "I was, but not up till recently. Why do you think I didn't want you meeting her?" The classic flat tone is back.

I shrug exaggeratedly. "How am I supposed to know? I thought you didn't want me to see bad things or something."

He pauses and lifts a finger. "Well yes, but no." I smirk, and I know he's scowling. "And what if I was still with her? What would you have done?"

I scratch the back of my neck and turn to my dog. Gunner's no longer looking out the door, taking an interest in our conversation. He's tilting his head almost mockingly, like he wants to know the answer as well. He's backing Eric up, being his little sidekick.

Dick.

I glare at the unfaithful animal. He, with all the boldness in the world, merely tilts his head further.

Someone will be receiving a lecture later.

"I don't know. I was thinking of breaking up with you. There's not much planned after that, I didn't want to turn you in," I reply nervously. I tried calling Four on the night I came from Amity. There was every intention to scrap the whole plan, and I figured I better inform him verbally. I had planned to detach myself from anything regarding Erudite and Eric, seeing there was no viable solution. I had planned to quit.

Four didn't pick up.

Eric only catches the first part. "Break up? With _me_?" He's horrified, understandably so. A hand flies to his chest dramatically and a glance shows him tilting his head back until the wall prevents him further. I smile; he's fine. "What more do you need woman?" I laugh. "I feed you, look after the dogs, teach you how to use the computer, give you medication, provide alcohol, defend your honor, and, and…"

Fisting his jacket, I yank him down to my level. His pupils dilate instantly, slate blues thinning as black overlays them. He's breathtakingly handsome.

"Ice cream. I need ice cream."

My lips gently press against his and my eyes close.

He responds immediately, cupping my face with his warm hands. My arms hook around his neck and I straighten my spine. His tongue traces my entrance, and I part my lips in compliance. He presses forward firmly, grinning. One hands travel down my back, preventing me from toppling back or hitting my head as he continues to push.

Delicate.

His tongue incredibly gentle, entirely different from the way he holds himself. It swipes against the tip of mine slowly but not hesitantly. Every motion precise and sensual, heightened by the lack of anything else happening.

I like it.

The grip around my back is tight, as if he fears I'll vanish before him. The force he applies is marginally lesser than the night he was drunk and squeezing me like a toy. I can feel the warmth radiating from his arms and chest, and it leaves me in a fuzzy mess. Everything about him is deliciously overpowering, overwhelming all my senses till I've forgotten everything except now.

The hum of approval is low and deep, sending tingles straight to my nether regions. He breaks away, tilting my face up. I'm breathless but he isn't. His mouth trances my jawline, the hand on the opposite side guiding my head for easier excess. The trail he leaves is wet and warm, sparking a murmur of his name.

His only response is the tightening of his arm. The trail stops at the middle of my neck. He's sucking again.

It takes me a while to realize what he's doing, mainly because I'm enjoying it so much.

"Eric!"

The retraction is instant, like he saw it coming miles away. He wears an unapologetic smirk. I scowl, covering the warming area of my neck with a hand.

The train is no longer moving, and Gunner's holding his leash between his jaws. The dog sits before us quietly and patiently, as if unabashedly watching us make out is his new favorite pastime. The train door is closed. Gunner must've slammed the door button close when the brakes were applied. I feel a twinge of guilt for getting carried away and not helping him with the earmuffs.

Then the train starts moving.

Our expressions simultaneously drop to horror. Eric snatches the files and I jerk out of my seat to get the door opening again. The contraption takes it's own sweet time, mocking us for losing track. Gunner jumps out before us, his leash still neatly tucked in his teeth. Eric and I follow shortly after.

"It'll pass off as a shadow."

"It will not," I grit out. My phone is held in front of me, the black glass screen doubling as an emergency mirror. Eric had conveniently placed the mark where it was almost impossible for hair to cover. He might as well have done it at the center of my throat. I readjust my hair and move my phone in various angles, ensuring everything's covered.

"Couldn't you just do it on the same spot? Or the _very least_, the same side?" I growl. My hair is now equally distributed on both sides, covering both hickeys. They come messy at the ends, flailing out like an extravagant waterfall.

"I did think about it… but ultimately decided against it." He's still smirky, proud he managed to get away long enough to leave a mark. His hand lifts my head to him. For a moment, I thought he was adjusting my hair because I missed a spot. Instead, he flips a part of my hair to the other side, messing up my middle parting. Then he gingerly pats it down. Once he's satisfied, he steps away. "There. Now you look good."

I stare at my reflection on the phone. The white line running down the middle of my head is gone, replaced by a less noticeable one on the side. The section of hair he had pushed to the side raises slightly, giving a puffier and rugged look. I suppose I do look better. "What happened to not attracting other men?"

I finally pick up Gunner's leash and we start towards Candor's headquarters. A few people are staring our way, no doubt having observed our entire exchange. Eric isn't bothered one bit, barely acknowledging them as we walk past. He walks close to me, our shoulders occasionally bumping.

"I know," he says rather casually - a tone used to discuss the weather, "but I like flaunting what others can never have."

* * *

"That's a very serious accusation. Are you sure?"

His eyes flicker between the two of us, willing us to say otherwise.

The door has been bolted shut. We're in a large soundproof room. This was the only place where we could discuss things privately, where there were no prying eyes or cameras.

Giggles break the silence.

Amy squeals as Gunner licks her on the face. She exclaims in gibberish, holding his neck and nudging him away. Next to her, Judge yowls in protest. He hops on the spot, trying to regain his lady's attention back.

It was Jack's idea to have her come with us. I didn't object, for I wanted to keep an eye on my boy. He said something along the lines of us looking less suspicious when there's a child involved.

"I have some evidence." Eric extends the documents he dutifully brought to the leader of justice. "They are lab reports on the human serum tests, as well as the divergent experiments she's carried out."

Jack outstretched hand pauses midway at the mention of divergent. "Divergents? You mean the people who have an aptitude for more than one faction?" He's confused, and rightfully so. Divergents are rarely an issue brought up, for their presence does not impact the factions in any way to be significant. "Jeanine's been experimenting on them?"

"Yes. She views them as a threat to the system, and she's been… testing their limits." Eric is hesitant with his words, and I tense at the implications of it.

Jack finally accepts the file. "And where does she acquire them? From her faction?" It's a thick black folder with the Dauntless symbol embedded in a faint grey. Overlaying the symbol are thick silver words of _Candor Food Inventory. _He places the file on the glass table between us and starts flicking through the papers. The papers are stapled in small stacks. Each set has the same cover page. It's a table with the date, time, and various standard information of the testing. After the cover page are paragraphs upon paragraphs of what I assume are observations and conclusions.

"I delivered them," Eric says grimly. His expression is unreadable. "I was tasked to identify and deliver them to her."

Hearing him admit it aloud is painful. Even with all the precautions I took during my aptitude test, he still had suspected I was divergent during my initiation. Had he known of the work I've placed in my dogs sooner, I won't be standing here today.

Jack's lips are set to a thin line. His muscles are tense, straining faintly against his suit jacket. "Were you aware they were to be used for testing?" His façade is calm and inexpressive, everything the city's chief justice needs to be.

Eric hesitates for only a second. "Yes."

Jack is prepared for his reply. "What happens to them after the… experiments?"

"They are terminated." My heart picks up. The exchange is making me sick to the stomach. Eric isn't revealing the full extent of what Jeanine has done, and he doesn't need to. I feel it all the same.

"By?"

"Serums."

Jack holds Eric's stare, his jaws clench at the information shared. I swallow thickly despite not being involved in this area in any way. It's one thing to hear from my mom and Four of his actions, but it's entirely different to hear Eric admit it himself. My breathing turns shallow as my head spins.

I need Hawk here. Right now.

"Sorry, can I take a seat?" I ask almost shakily. Jack breaks eye contact to glance towards me. He nods, not really paying attention to me.

Gunner has his paws between my legs the moment I slump onto the chair. I didn't notice when he had come over. He nudges his nose to my face, his actions gentle and careful. My hands grip my forehead and my eyes close. I focus on drawing deep breaths, tuning out everything around me.

Some more words are being exchanged but all I hear is the pounding of my heart. Gunner's movements grow frantic. He pushes his snout into me until his head is tucked snugly between my shoulder and neck. My arm circles my boy's back. His thick luscious coat is covered by the rough material of his vest, and it scrapes against my skin. I don't like it.

I need Hawk here. He is experienced in this. He'll know what to do.

My head heats in irritation of his absence. Hatred builds for Skylar had taken my partner from me. If only he remained a messenger, then he would be here now. My fingers pinch the skin on my forehead as I seethe. How dare she take something she doesn't understand. He is mine, and only mine. I hand raised him the second he was born.

Something lands on my shoulder.

I snap out of it immediately. The two men are watching worriedly, their earlier conversation gone. Amy is tugging her father's pants. He bends down as she whispers something to his ear. A furtive glance to me confirms I'm the topic of conversation.

"Anna?" Gunner is stiff beneath me. My sudden jerk had winded him up. Eric is standing a foot away. His expression is hesitant, almost guilty.

Inhaling deeply, I count to three. Everything is fine. It's all in the past. I rise from my seat and reassuringly pet Gunner. He silently sticks to my side; warm body against my leg. "Sorry," I speak loud enough for all to hear, "I was feeling nauseous." I nudge Gunner away and point to Amy. She's back at her makeshift playpen, fiddling with her hands. "Place," I say to him quietly. My dog reluctantly leaves to pad over to her. Her expression brightens when she notices him approaching.

Eric doesn't believe me but doesn't push. I'm grateful.

"I have voice recordings, though they aren't with me now," I attempt to contribute, wanting the attention off my reaction as soon as possible. "It's my interactions with Jeanine. She's asked me to join her." If Eric's surprised by the information, he sure doesn't show it.

Jack rests his palm on the opened file. "I believe this and Eric's hearing is enough. However, any extra evidence is appreciated."

"Hearing?" I ask in restrained alarm. "In front of the entire faction?" I'm not stupid. Every trial will be performed before the entire Candor population. It's one of the few things we learned about the faction. A scare tactic, used to prevent us from doing anything stupid in school.

"Yes, but this will be a private trial as we don't want news to be leaked. It will cause panic among the factions. Eric has agreed to it under the influence of truth serum."

I do not recall much about the serum, other than it is exclusively used in Candor. Regardless, anything with the word 'trial' is still not good news.

I am distraught, voice rising an octave. "And what will happen to him after that? Will you arrest him? Will he be sentenced to death for murder?" My heart is racing again. Candor is the faction of justice. And justice will be served.

I can't lose him; not now, not ever.

"That will be up to the discretion of the court," Jack replies calmly.

Something snaps. "Discretion of the court?" I shriek. Gunner shifts from his spot. I hold out a hand to stop him. "The only _just_ consequence of murder is death! You're going to kill him after he's exposed Jeanine?!" I'm on the brink of lunging at Candor's leader and threatening him at knifepoint. How dare he harm the person who's potentially saving an entire faction?

This is ridiculous.

Absurd.

_Unfair._

Eric grips my shoulders and flips me to him. "Anna, it's fine. I'm not dying," his voice is firm and reassuring, but his eyes give way to a sliver of doubt.

My words harshly slice through his. "You don't know that!"

Jack intervenes right before I spew out a string of curses. "Take heart, Anna. Eric is also saving hundreds of lives by doing this. Death will certainly not be an option to such a heroic act," he points out gently. The trepidation is still not quenched. It requires great effort to not glower at the chief judge. He has the last say; he holds the situation in _his_ hands.

"At most, Eric will be stripped from leadership." Jack offers, despite not needing to.

My eyes squeeze shut, picturing the possibility. Perhaps it would do him some good, Eric has been way too busy for a man his age. I'll remain as a leader trainee, so at least one of us is still in the loop of important decisions. "Okay." I speak as if I have a say in this matter, and I'd like to pretend I do. "Okay. Sorry for lashing out." Jack assures me that it's fine, as he would've reacted the same if his wife were in Eric's place.

I don't reply, registering his implications.

"How long till the trial?" Eric asks. His arms have fallen away and he's returned to facing the leader. He's way more objective and professional than me, considering this literal life is on the line.

"I'll have to speak with my subordinates, but most likely next week."

"So two weeks till Jeanine's taken down, give or take," Eric concludes.

"Yes. Will you be able to find enough manpower for this? Since Max and the other trainee are on her side."

"I plan to catch her when she's out of the faction - she going to start frequenting to Dauntless soon. The machines are almost ready to be sent over. There shouldn't be much resistance when it happens." It occurs to me Eric has been planning this for a while now. He seems to have everything laid out already. All he needed was to execute.

Guess who got in his way.

"Very well. I'll update you soon."

"Send me an email under the guise of factionless sightings and I'll physically come over, do not include the details. Emails, messages, and calls are rigged by the Erudite."

Jack is surprised, and I am too. That explains why Eric's digitally curt on anything regarding work. Here I thought he just hated being away from me. I'm not sure if I like this revelation or not.

Jack clasps his hands in finality, and I mentally sigh that the meeting is over. "That settles it then. Thank you for coming to me." He shuts the file and picks it up, tucking it securing in his arm. "Is there anything else you want to say or need?"

Eric speaks up seconds later.

"There is." Jack pauses halfway to Amy. His features are no longer hard, returning to his warm, somewhat welcoming, exterior. Once he's gotten the full attention of the leader, he continues. "Can we get ice-cream?"

Jack blinks, not believe his ears. I blink too, for neither can I. Both of us stare at the full-grown man incredulously, unable to fathom such a request after an intense meeting.

Eric mimics our expressions mockingly; an unsophisticated ape. "What?"

* * *

**A/N**

**My laptop charger broke. (I check the fuse already.** Thanks high school physics**) Currently using my tablet's one. Worried it would ****overheat ****combust and set my room on fire.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! :)**


	40. 40

There's been another factionless attack. Kyle and Veronica went to investigate.

"_No_," I hissed, nudging him away with my shoulder against his stiff yucky jacket.

Despite my snarl-whispers, Eric chooses not to take the hint of toning it down. "My train is only due in an hour and a half, we have plenty of time," he casually throws out, as if we were discussing the weather. His tattooed arms are around my waist, tightening briefly to coax me into agreeing.

I scowl and continue flipping through Amity's catalog, searching for the hygiene category. "I don't care, we're not doing it." Rows of soap images greet me, and I immediately locate the familiar green bottle.

Eric rests his chin on my head, peering down as I scrawl the code of the next item. The small slip of paper is half-full with similar codes. Some of which I had wrote, and others Eric had. He had a brief blabber episode over some Swedish almond cake I needed to try, confidently writing three on the quantity column. Though he spoke with total conviction, the picture of the thin edible soil with layers of cream had me doubtful. If it hadn't come from Erudite's catalog, I would've passed it off as Abnegation sustenance.

"Doing what?" he asks innocently.

The store is mostly empty, being the middle of the day. Only a few Dauntless are present, all of which are flipping through similar thick magazines as how normal people should. Occasionally there'll be a few glances at us; specifically when Eric opens his stupid fat mouth. Something about watching their big bad leader interact with a woman is interesting to them. "You know what," I growl under my breath.

He pauses for a second. "I forgot."

"No, you didn't," I seethe. All I wanted to buy a few stuff I never knew I could again. Eric had casually pointed out that there's a store that sold items from other factions during lunch, and I flipped out because he didn't tell me sooner.

I lost it again when he said ice-cream wasn't sold, after watching me flicking through the entire of Candor's catalogs in tangible frustration _three times_. He was incredibly amused as I threw a tantrum and threatened to thwack his head with the book. And I almost did, if Eric hadn't offhandedly pointed out the storekeeper watching us.

I placed the thick magazine back on the counter.

"You're right, I didn't, but I want to hear you say it." He rocks back and forth idly. With his heavy bulk half-draped over me, I have no choice but to sway with him. The pencil in my hand slides across the paper, unable to find purchase as his rocking dips to unnatural. A snigger escapes from him as I pressed my wrist firmly on the table, hastily scrawling the last code before Eric decides to hoist me over his shoulder for no reason other than to spite me.

Shrugging off his embrace as I would with a thick coat, I confidently head to the counter. The lady takes me in curiously, noting my scowl and Eric's probable smirk. I pray she hasn't heard everything Eric's been blabbering about, for I would melt into an embarrassing puddle.

We exchange words and she accepts the form I extend. She's warm and smiley, a subtle hint of approval for my relationship - of which I did not ask her for.

...Or she's afraid of crossing either of us.

Eric invades my personal space as the woman keys in my order, disgruntled for being deserted without second thought. His weight pushes me forward until my chest is flush against the high counter. The lady doesn't bat an eye, confirming my suspicions of her having watched our exchange like some reality series for the last half hour. Eric continues his babbles. "Fine, don't say it. But just to let you know, I deserve dessert – _sex, _in case you get any other ideas - after cooking. And you'll like it too, I promise."

I shouldn't have expected otherwise, but I did. My entire body freezes rock solid.

Eric had said the words louder than necessary, his suggestion undoubtedly traveling to the ears of everyone, particularly the word 'sex'.

If I wore glasses – and at this moment I truly wish I did – I would've done what an Erudite would do whenever they're thrown off in class. Delicately pinch at the hinge, slowly pull them off, fold, and gently set the accessory on the table. Except instead, I would chuck the ornament at Eric's face.

Very calmly, I twist to face the man behind me.

He's grinning devilishly, and it widens when he takes in my steeled expression.

"Is that a yes?" he asks chirpily, in complete confidence I'll agree.

I snarled loudly. "No." Snapping back to the woman, I rush my name for her to dock the points. The longer we stay here, the more chaotic everything will become. It doesn't help with the fact that we cause a scene wherever we go. Well, Eric and the dogs, technically. I try to stay out of wandering eyes – which is proving to be near impossible when with them.

"Charge it to Eric Coulter," Eric throws over his shoulder.

My eye twitches and I abruptly halt my tracks. He bumps into me, and I step aside to catch the cashier again. Holding her with a leveled stare to convey my firmness, I repeat my name.

She nods, a knowing smile gracing her face once again. I mentally flip her off and resume my march out of the store. _No, lady, we are not about to head off to fuck._

Eric says his name again as I step out of the store. I decide to give up fighting, since no matter the account, the points still come from him.

"I'm serious, it'll help." The playfulness in his tone drops, and I slow my stride.

"It's disgusting, it smells disgusting," I reply flatly. Just like in the store, the Pit is mostly empty during lunch. Few people mingle, most rushing around with a goal. It's a stark difference from the crowd at night.

He spends a moment thinking, giving me the impression I've said something wrong. "So if I can convince you it's not disgusting, it's a yes?"

"No. We're not having our first time when I'm on my period." I state in finality, no longer afraid of anyone overhearing our conversation now we're in an open space. This man is absolutely absurd.

"It'll help with the cramps. My sister told me. She did it by herself, of course," he says earnestly, noting my scrunched expression. "She made me swear I'll help my future partner. She had bad cramps, like you. Sometimes, she would be sent home because of it."

He's cute.

Eric had asked if I was alright in the store, not only noticing I've been on the edge, but also, quote 'wanting to die this morning'. My period arrived in the middle of the night, delivering unyielding pain at dawn – a punishment for pigging out on Dauntless cake. To my defense, eating the cake wouldn't have crossed my mind had not Skylar brought it over as an excuse to play with my dogs. I was writhing in agony until it eased up slightly after the effects of the heating pad kicked in. It took me longer than usual to drag myself to the meeting room. Now, the stinging pain had dulled to an irritating, continuous, thrum.

Damn Eric for being so observant.

"It's fine, I'm feeling better now." My tone has softened, touched by his care. Not one of the books I read had characters offered this. He's unknowingly surpassed every expectation I never knew I had.

The large leader beside me slows, tugging my hand once to stop in the middle of the life of Dauntless. He searches my eyes, slate blues locking onto my greens. I lick my lip in nervousness. He catches it. "Are you sure?"

Tilting my head up with a thumb on my chin and hand on my neck, he kisses me gently. From his actions alone, I know he's telling me it's okay, that he didn't mind our first time involved the metallic smell of blood everywhere.

There's something extremely raw about him offering to help. It tugs on my heart, weighing heavily as I replay everything he's said so far. I feel unworthy of his care and concern, for everything he does is so attune to me. He deserves someone better. Yet, I don't want him with anyone else, for I'm afraid I'll find no one like him.

Eric has set the standards high, even higher than John, till I can't imagine being truly satiated with anyone else. What have I done to deserve him?

When we pull away, my resolve has solidified. I shake my head, reassuring him it's fine.

Eric doesn't respond immediately, checking to see if I'm sure. There is no flash of disappointment, nor is there relief. Only plain, pure, concern.

Then he destroys the moment. "You could masturbate instead." My walls snap back up, taken aback by his bold suggestion. "The girls in Candor spoke a lot about it in school, you sure you've never heard of this?" His head tilts, eyes twinkling mischievously.

I can't relate.

This is the first time I'm hearing it.

Chunking my forehead on his hard chest, I groan loudly. This man is despicable, insane, and infuriating; I won't have it any other way.

"I won't follow if you don't want me to. Though, you'll definitely enjoy it more if I did. Go back to your apartment, sit in the shower, do it. I'll keep an eye on the dogs till you get back," he speaks normally, and a bit too bold for my liking. "Take your time too, it won't work well if you rush. The goal is to come."

I draw an exaggerated breath, mulling over his incredulous suggestion. This round is pretty bad. I should at least give it a shot lest I snap at anyone else. "Fiiine," I drag, "I'll do it alone." Between the both of us, I know only I will ultimately benefit from this.

He bends to kiss my cheek. "Good girl." Just like that, we're off to the residential wing. Another normal day, nothing out of place. "Want me to start you off?"

"No."

* * *

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Squeaky noises come from above - Four is adjusting his black gel suit. "You said you wanted to talk about something?"

Prowling far ahead of me, Sabre's claws audibly click against the concrete. His vigilant gaze is fixated on me and the man perched on the platform directly above. Every movement is slow and calculated, the intelligent, feral beast surfaced.

Gunner lays on the mat to the side, his snout sharp and eyes keen. His regal form emits a power of control and authority. He's prepared to leap into action in the event his brother fails to subdue the threat, regardless of what I say.

Rest assured, Sabre has never failed.

"Yeah, I do. It's about everything going on with Jeanine." With a snap of attention, the animal bursts into a sprint. A knife clashes loudly to my right and I wince, snapping to the source of the noise. It rebounds into the air to a foot from me before clattering. Sabre launches at my chest, kicking off as he vertically travels up the wall. The sudden force of his weight catches me off guard, knocking me back a few steps. My back bumps into the wall and I whuff.

An audible grunt before a muffled thump as a heavyweight crashes to the ground. Glancing up, I see the faintest speck of black fur – the tip of Sabre's tail. There are no barks or snaps, only strangled grunts from the man being assaulted.

The dogs have been trained to be silent when engaging a possible threat. It's the bite that ultimately counts, not bark. Barking is forbidden, only snarls and growls if the need for a verbal warning arises. It's something they learned from herding, as barking will send the sheep and cows into a chaos. Less barking makes them seem less deadly, which keeps the animals calmer.

More importantly, drop the guards of the enemy.

"Break." Even without the need of raising my voice, I know Sabre heard me. The grunts and shuffling stop, giving way to loud panting. A sharp head pokes from the edge, peering down at me. "That's my baby boy." Sabre grins at my praise, disappearing back to the platform.

"What about Jeanine?" Four speaks normally, like he wasn't tackled down seconds ago. He's grown accustomed to training the dogs, no longer fretting when any of the trio dive for an area other than the arm.

"We're planning to take her down next week." If all goes well with Eric's meeting today, his hearing is expected to be in two days.

Sabre bounds to me, a ball he found in his maw. He tap dances in front of me, ecstatic over the simplest of things. He races off the moment I grab the ball and pull my arm back, trusting completely I won't faux throw.

I watch my boy chase after the flying ball. Were we outside, leaves would be kicked up as it's autumn. I should bring them out after this.

"Next week?" he asks incredulously. "Jeanine's barely showed you anything yet. The recordings are not enough evidence to take her down."

We're talking way too loudly with him far above me. It sucks too that the training room has little to no padding to absorb sound. "Did you listen to the one yesterday? She was showing me the serums," I reply, oddly offended by his remark. It must be his bordering-condescending tone.

Something dark flashes from my peripherals. I barely turn when a slick silver object plummets right before me.

_Clink!_

Another knife.

I jerk back, swearing loudly as the blade clatters by my black running shoes. A series of clicks snatches my attention away from the mocking blade. Sabre's running straight at me, his toy nowhere in sight.

Four could've killed me. That bastard.

I'm more ready with Sabre's leap this time, and I plant my feet firmly to withstand his weight. His strides lengthen as he accelerates, only slowing at the last moment to tuck his hind legs to push himself off the ground. Having had a longer running start, the force he brings is much harder than the first. With a jolt, the wolfdog vanishes from my sight.

I look up, ready to catch him in the event he loses purchase on the concentrate wall.

He doesn't.

The expected grunts come without a moment's waste, and I contemplate letting him suffer a while longer for the ass move. As much as I know Four wouldn't intentionally harm me, I was frightened out of my skin. My heart is racing and adrenaline pumps through my veins. My limbs are jittery, ready to bot at a millisecond's notice.

Hardly a second later, a shout. "Anna!" Four yells, panicked.

I panic too, freaked out by almost being skewered in the brain by a stupid knife. "BREAK!"

Four groans loudly, letting out a long string of his own curses - Dauntless flippiting cake. I kick away the knife with more force than necessary. When it slides a good distance away, I bend over and rest my palms on my knees, focusing on my breathing. Stupid Four.

A few beats of heavy breathing later, Four says, "Gunner's up here too."

I frown. "Is he?" A turn to the right shows a vacant mat. Huh. He must've taken the stairs. "Instinct, I guess." The trainer is lucky. If Gunner had been faster like his counterparts, he could've pushed Four off the ledge.

I believe he knows that too.

Pants alert me of their arrival.

Gunner nuzzles into my bent front, checking to see if I'm fine. Sabre is doing somewhat similar, just with more force. He's trying to squeeze his head between my arm and side, adamant on stealing the attention to himself.

I chuckle and straighten. These boys are goofballs at heart, little puppies who wouldn't hurt a fly… unless on purpose. Four clomps down the stairs without the gracefulness of my dogs. I extend a bottle of water which he gratefully accepts. He twists off the cap and chugs the liquid down greedily. His face is ashen, stark in contrast with his black on black attire.

Good. Now he knows how I felt.

I don't say it out loud though, not wanting to push his buttons.

"You were saying?"

He caps the bottle and swipes a hand over his lips. "About?"

I had forgotten too. Resting my hands on my hips, I try my best to pull my jumbled thoughts together. Along the lines of me wanting to tell him something... "I told you about Jeanine showing me the serums and asked if you listened to the latest one."

Recognition fills his expression. "Ah yes. I only listened to half. You wanted the files last night, so I spent my time compiling it, didn't had the time to continue the rest." He reaches an arm behind and digs for the chunky plastic zipper. Once located, he drags it down. The suit loosens and bunches on his shoulders. "Speaking of which, you didn't tell me why you needed them."

"To take down Jeanine," I say with forced simplicity. Warning signs go off in my head. I did not think this through. Why did I open my fat mouth in the beginning?

Oh right, so Four won't feel betrayed when Jeanine is taken down next week.

Well, he's gonna feel betrayed now. Dumbass.

His brows pinch to the center, confused. "How? What did you do to it?"

"I'm brought it up to Candor, Jack Kang is currently processing the evidence." My mind whirls at the possibility of conjuring a lie. Would Four believe if I said I did this by myself?

His voice drops in shock. "_What?_" he hisses. I squeeze my eyes shut and grimace. "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

"The opportunity arose, so I took it. Jack Kang believed me. He's working hard on it." Shit. Shit. Triple shit.

A ruffle of cloth, a thump as the suit hits the bag, and clomping of steel-toed boots - Four is making his way to me. He must be incensed, for a furry body suddenly presses to my side. Drawing courage, I peel my eyes apart and look at him.

He stares me down, jaw clenched. I hold in a gulp, saliva stuck at the back of my throat. His glare flickers to the dog, and his lips twist to an infuriated scowl. Gunner is unyielding, his body firm as stone.

Four takes a step back and crosses his arms. The interrogation begins. "So you truly believed Jack Kang believed you."

I reply without skipping a beat. "Yes."

He aims one long reprimanding finger at me, and I can't blame him. "You do realize that you're just a _trainee_, right? Why would the head of Candor believe your accusations towards a faction leader?" His words nipped at the back of my mind, the bluntness and accuracy pricking at my control.

"Well he did. It took time, of course, but he did." Thank the heavens Four is nothing like Eric. If Eric were in his place, he would've fished out all the secrets ages ago. It's impossible to hide anything from the man; his period detection episode today proves it.

However, to my dismay, Four isn't exactly a meathead either. "Okay, let's _assume_ he did. Because why would the leader of truth lie to you?" He says mocking, crossing his arms. "How did you bring the recordings to him? You couldn't possibly have traveled to Candor and back so quickly. Email?"

A deep longing settles on my abdomen. How I wish Eric were here to handle this. He would grab the facts and shove it down Four's throat. Then we would hold hands and walk into the sunset while Four writhed on the ground.

I'm such a child.

The training door opens. My head whips with great enthusiasm, the dream fresh on my mind.

Hawk plops down on all fours, and I try not to sulk. The expected piece of paper is between his teeth.

"You found Uriah?" I ask, still grateful for the distraction. Hawk blinks at me, probably feeling insulted that I expected otherwise. A corner of the torn tissue a damp with spit. I suppose this is in better condition than the last.

_Your dog is freaky as hell._

_I found him sitting RIGHT outside the bathroom, waiting for me._

_Do you understand how creepy that is?_

_Marlene called me a pansicake pansycake for screaming like a girl. _

_Which is_

He stops his rant, realizing he's running out of space on the first side. Nonetheless, he manages to squeeze in one more sentence in super tiny script behind.

_P.S. If you don't bring your dogs to chase tag soon, we're kicking you off the team. Zeke orders. And I won't lend you any shirts anymore._

Four waits for me to finish reading, force smile, and praise the fawn animal before continuing. He does not share Hawk's success. "So?"

I swallow, hit by an avalanche of irritation. We wouldn't be dancing around if it weren't for Four's hatred for Eric. On one hand, he'll say Eric's getting better. On the other, he'll hint on how Eric is a ruthless son of a bitch, never to be trusted.

Calm.

I need to be calm. Breathing deeply, I let my mind drift back to the beautiful, thoughtful, man. His advice had worked. The pain had completely subsided by the time I came down from my high.

It is slowly building back up again, but I shall not dwell on it.

Giddiness had overwhelmed me at the miracle. I scrubbed my hands free from the smell of blood and practically skipped back to work. Eric didn't expect me to burst into his office, perform a questionable victory dance, and kiss the heck out of him. To his credit, he didn't complain, laughing at my uncoordinated movements before turning all possessive caveman. I swat him away when he tried to grope my ass. No way he's touching my period panties, much less blood.

He pouted but didn't push, likely figuring his chance of succeeding was slim to none.

He did give me another hickey though. I've yet to find it in me to put my foot down. He had a valid point – my hair is nicer 'effortless'. However, I face the problem of the never-ending tangles and slight frizziness - which should be improved once the hair products arrive. A waterfall, that's how I describe it. The frizzes are towards the ends like splatters but the rest is straight. Now the only time my hair is smooth and tangle-free t is right after I thoroughly comb and before Eric plays hairstylist – which isn't very long.

Breathing out slowly through my mouth, I steel myself.

"Eric brought it to Candor. He's on the way back now." Be upfront, get this over with.

"ERIC!" Four yells in disbelief. His stiff demeanor is gone, ripped away like wax on skin. Gunner's apprehension grows, uncaring of the fact this man is his friend. The dog's expression still blank, but his hackles have raised. "You _gave _the evidence to Eric!"

As a friend, I know I should have Gunner back off. However, Four actions are currently unpredictable.

Gunner's presence merely serves as a precaution – a reminder to the man to not do anything stupid.

I also can't hold my ground against him.

"He knows," I say. Best to lay out all my cards. The situation has already soured. "He knows about the dogs too."

Four's reply is sarcastic. "Might as well tell him when you're on your period too, init?" I remain silent, without a comeback. He catches it. "He does, doesn't he? What is wrong with you?"

"Look, I trust-"

Four cuts me off sharply. "Just because you 'trust' him, doesn't mean I do. And the last time I checked, Jeanine's project does not _revolve_ around your relationship with him. How can you so _foolishly _give it up?" His words are said with venom, each a strike meant to harm me.

Except I am not deterred. Nothing has been as clear as now.

"Eric isn't working for Jeanine."

He scoffs, loudly. "Oh yeah? Explain to me what happened to Amar, and that Amity transfer. You think he brought them for a trip to the amusement park? Amar is dead. And more likely than not, so is the transfer." I plant my feet firmly and hold my head high. "I can't believe you're so selfish and ignorant to throw away our only shot at bringing them justice. Having feelings for him doesn't mean you should vomit out your secrets. Not only have you placed yourself in danger, but you've also placed my life on the line."

"I didn't tell him about you."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? If you haven't realized, Eric's smart." If it weren't for Gunner beside me, I have the feeling Four would be doing more than just yelling. "He'll figure out eventually. There's no way you are pulling this off yourself, you're only a banjo-playing transfer."

My mouth twists down and my eyes harden at his implications. I am capable. I know what I'm doing. I am not weak, dumb, nor inadequate. My parents and Eric have drilled it in my head. Hell, if my dogs aren't living proof of my capabilities, I don't know what is.

My fists clench and unclench. I look to the ground, eye twitching.

Four huffs in exasperation. "Unbelievable. Ridiculous. Despicable."

I count to ten, weaving my next words carefully. Control, control, control. My fingers touch soft lavish fur, and I sink into it. "I understand why you're upset, and you have the right to continue to be. However, understand that unlike you had assumed, I did not act on impulse. I had spent a few days thinking it through before I'd even brought it up to Eric, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. That being said, I will not apologize for my actions," I say crisply. Inside, I'm patting myself for not choking over the words.

Quite the accomplishment.

I shall celebrate later.

Four's dark blues flash dangerously. As with Gunner, I remain unfazed, standing my ground. The vein on his neck pops, pulsing visibly even from a few feet away. When he doesn't speak, I take it as my cue to continue. "Eric stopped the divergent hunts before initiation ended. He also hasn't been as involved as before." I decide against sharing Eric's divergence, not trusting Four to keep it to himself.

Today's training is over, and from the looks of it, until further notice. I stroll over to the equipment and squat down, stuffing the suit and toy guns into the bag. "He's exposing Jeanine to Candor, and will stand trial for his own actions." Saying the fact alone disgusts me. I can't stand the idea of him undergoing it.

This must be what my dogs feel like when protecting me. All I want to do now is guard him and rip everyone's head off, regardless of what he deserves. Eric's mine. He only answers to me, no one else.

"And you believe that?" Four asks abrasively.

Slinging the duffle back over one shoulder, I head towards the door. The dogs get up and follow silently. They've always been very perceptive on situations. "I don't believe, I know," I say evenly. "I was there with him when we spoke to Jack. He'd even brought physical evidence of Jeanine's plans."

"And you convinced him to quit?"

My hand pauses at the handle. Three furry heads look up, watching me. The dogs eye me attentively, expecting a command. "No. He convinced himself."

* * *

**A/N**

**Was supposed to update last night, but got caught up with exam prep. Its the first time I left questions blank, and it's an official exam :'D**

**Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate it! Would've fallen out of my chair if I hadn't read it in bed haha**


	41. 41

The day of Eric's trial has me not attending.

It was a unanimous decision made the night before, after watching Inception. We were curled up on my couch while the three dogs each chewed on a lamb leg John graciously included in the morning's shipment. It was a long, mind-bending movie, and both of us were trying to one-up the other by predicting the next events. There wasn't a prize if either won – other than bragging rights. Regardless, we were at each other's necks, cursing whenever one of us came up wrong.

Eric won – according to him.

I told him it was unfair, coming from Erudite.

He laughed in my face.

I wanted to stand and kick his shin, but I wasn't wearing any shoes. Instead, I took away his beer. Which in turn, he took away my apple cider. Then he suggested I don't come to the trial. I agreed wholeheartedly.

"Thank you." Johanna beams, all the sunshine in the world nestled in her smile. Had I not grown up knowing her, I would've felt nauseous.

"Eric helped as much as I did." I'm not sure why I feel the need to include him, but I do. "And Veronica, of course."

Amity men mingle with hand-picked Dauntless soldiers. So far so good, no one has snapped at the other faction yet. Scratch that, _Dauntless_ has yet to snap. The Amity wouldn't hurt a fly, even when it buzzes around them for the entire day.

The men selected as drivers were hand-picked by Veronica. We needed people who could both fight and 'put up' with the Amity traveling in shared space. In preparation for the trailers, Veronica had suggested team bonding activities.

I needn't be here, for the task had been left to one of the transport heads. This was just an excuse I concocted to check on my parents and to not be left alone in Dauntless.

"It will," the woman replies confidently. "I truly am grateful for all you're doing and have done." Her arms twitch by her side, and I hesitate. My pause lasts for only a second before I'm embracing her.

I know I shouldn't, as there is loyalty to upkeep. My position as a trainee could be jeopardized for such a public act. However, displays of affection with people I care about should not stir up mistrust. Maintaining relations between people of different factions should be cherished.

I shall speak to Eric on this.

"No, thank you." Her embrace is warm and motherly – qualities the faction's representative ought to have. "For supporting me through everything." Without her suggestion and approval to have my mom train me, I wouldn't have made it to Dauntless.

She pulls away and places a gentle hand on my arm. "I only want what's best for you, as do your parents, John, and your three adorable bodyguards." At the mention of the dogs, she scrunches her nose and grins at Gunner. The german shepherd grins back from beside me, completely puppy-like and relaxed.

Only Gunner came with me to Amity. Having all three would've been a handful given I have little time here today. The last thing I needed was to appear needing assistance loading up my pups in front of a group of extremely capable Dauntless.

"On a side note, have you seen my dad? I'm hoping to catch him before I leave." Or mom.

She averts her gaze from the dog. "I've not heard from him since yesterday morning. He had left for an Erudite visit again. You could ask John, he should be at the office right now dealing with some paperwork." Although the waver in her tone is almost unnoticeable, I notice it.

"Oh, sure. I'm not due to leave in an hour anyway," I reply lightly. "I'll see you later."

Her back faces me as she watches black and orange clothed people play a game. Laughter fills the air as some men trip and stumble into each other. Everything is going well; for them. "Of course, of course," she waves me off distractedly, "I hope you'll find him."

Twenty feet away is when I deem it safe to sigh. There shouldn't be anything wrong. Dad is sometimes forgetful. Also, he's not obligated to report to Johanna's office every day. There is no need to panic.

I click my phone on to check the time. Eric's trial is due to start in ten. Despite not being there with him, my heart still races. Both him and Jack has assured me countless of times everything will be fine, but I still can't help but worry. Why does everything in my life not proceed smoothly? Why can't everyone I love be fine, good, and healthy? Why can't I just take a break?

_Good luck_. I stare at the text, my thumb hovering over the send icon. My thumb trembles and a chill runs down. Clenching the phone, I force my mind to get a grip. With no reason, the words mock me. I delete them.

I swallow and shut my eyes. Everything is going to be fine, Anna. Everyone is going to be fine. _Come back to me._

His reply comes in less than a minute.

_I will._

* * *

Soft whines pull me from staring at my phone. Two measly words that mean everything to me. He will. He promised.

"I'm sorry, boy." Gunner rests his head on my thigh, amber eyes wide and forlorn. "Maybe they were busy. We would've had a better shot if we came in the evening."

My search for my father was futile, to say the least. John had not seen him since yesterday too. I had even gone as far as to approach some Amity on his whereabouts, but nada, no one had seen him.

It was a last-ditch effort to go home, hoping to catch the person who's taken an obsession with plants. Gunner was excited as we headed down the familiar path, jumping on the spot the moment our house became visible. My eagerness to see my mother was only a fraction of his. Fear and powerlessness had gripped me into avoiding her. Whatever she is going through, I am unable to help her.

There's little you can do when you live an entire faction away.

As a daughter, the least I can do is to speak and console her. However, it's frightening to know someone who's always been kind and understanding to change – even it's just her hobbies. She had always taught me to see both sides of things, to give the benefit of the doubt, to think before acting. And for her to leave work and have everyone worry over her…

Whatever dad is up to… it's bad.

So, when I arrived to find the house empty, I won't lie to say I wasn't relieved.

The paper tucked in my pocket is weighs nothing, yet it feels like a brick. I sigh. Mom had written me a note she left in the box of plants. A small slip of paper with two words. I had almost missed it entirely through the masses polaroid that came in the envelope. Only noticed it as I arranged the polaroids into a stack.

And I would've called her to ask about what she meant, but Eric warned calls being tracked by Erudite. I couldn't draw more suspicion to my parents.

Patting my thighs, Gunner rises and plants his front paws between my thighs. At this height, he's a tad taller than me sitting. It's a perfect height for a good hug, and I do just that. I bury my face into his thick fluffy neck, inhaling his lavender-scented shampoo. "Everything will turn out fine, right boy?" I mumble into him. "Just like all those stories I read. There will always be a happy ending. Mom and dad should be fine, we can come back another day. For all we know, dad's disappearance may just be a frequent occurrence. We can't expect everyone to know where everyone is."

We remain in this position, me basking in the comforting embrace of my beautiful boy. He doesn't move, grown used to me having moments like these. Hawk would do the same while Sabre would grow impatient. The silver hound prefers to brush off anything surrounding sappy feelings, but I know he's just as big of a softie as the other two. He cherishes family above all else.

My phone rings.

At first, I didn't believe it was mine. I was ready to glare at whoever wouldn't pick it up and stop the incessant buzzing. Then I remembered there were only the two of us in the car. I had decided to remain in solitude after my lack of findings. My gloom would've soured the mood of all the smiley Dauntless.

I snatch up the phone immediately, hope blooming faster than the crack of a whip. I have been waiting for Eric's assurance that everything went as planned, that he's on the way back. But the name glaring back at me isn't with Eric.

It's Zeke.

"Hello?"

"Anna! Thank god you picked up," Zeke rushes panickily, breathlessly. There is shouting in the background, as well as jingling and scraping of metal.

I straighten and pull away from my dog, keeping a hand on the ruff on his neck as he watches curiously. "What's wrong?"

Zeke has never called me before. The only reason why I have his number is because he insisted over lunch one day.

"It's Four. He's been attacked, and and-"

"Four?" There's no reason he should be attacked. That man works at the most unhappening places in Dauntless. The control room is nowhere near any sort of action. And the last time I check, I left Four with…

Fear spikes. "Where's Sabre?" I had dropped him off for Four and Zeke before leaving. Four had agreed to Sabre's company, despite us not being on the best of terms.

Did Sabre attack him?

"It's not his fault. He's-"

Then I hear it, and so does Gunner. His ear perk and his grin dies while I almost drop the phone.

Yowling.

I recognize it immediately. It's different from the shrieks when the dogs play fight. This one is panicked, loud, and frightful. It's a horrible sound, reminding me of all the times the dogs were truly afraid. My mind goes slack. The shouting in the background increases with the screeching. Men voices.

"Zeke!" My breathing grows heavy and blood climbs. The noise continues. Fear crashes into me in waves. This can't be happening.

They are hurting him. They are hurting him. They are hurting him.

And I'm stuck on a train. Miles away.

"C-cole. I think he attacked Four. Sabre protected him and and- NO!" He cuts himself off with a shout. "Don't shoot! He's done nothing wrong!" He's yelling at the men in the background, phone away from him. The yowling continues. From the way Sabre chokes, someone is yanking on my dog. "Put the gun down! Stop-"

The call disconnects.

Gunner stares at me. His ears are still perked and serious.

The shaking starts with the hand holding my phone. It spread quickly, traveling to my arm, then my torso, then my abdomen, and finally my feet. I fold my arms and press them tightly against my chest. Pain sprouts from my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut and double over. It flares like a searing hot iron branding my skin.

Eric.

I need him. Right now.

My eyes snap open and I click the phone on. I swipe right, jamming my thumb on '1'. His name flashes a second later, and for a moment, the pain subsides. As I wait, I come to my senses. There must be a misunderstanding. Sabre will never attack unless provoked. I've trained him well.

I just need to find whoever is in-charge and explain.

Eric will back me up. We'll figure things out. Everything will be fine.

The phone goes to voicemail.

* * *

Any effort in keeping calm is whipped away the second we land at Dauntless.

A group of blurry Dauntless barricade the entrance to the building, blocking the only way in and out. I don't recognize them. Yet, they stare right at me, watching me and Gunner hop down to the platform like hawks. The group who had followed on the trip between exchange glances between each other, confused.

The brawniest of the three men speaks up. It's clear he is the leader, for he reeks authority. "Leave. We're only here for the girl and dog." There are black fire patterns on his arms, beginning at his wrists and curling up to his biceps. There is no hair on his head, and it gleams as brightly as the smooth concrete floor. The man to his right has funky purple hair, while the left is raven. But what stands out most about all of them isn't their hair, it's the holsters strapped on their waists.

The people leave quickly, though not without throwing curious glances at me. Not one pried or stood their ground, obeying orders without question. Because of that, I can't help but glare at their departure.

"What do you want." I am hostile, and rightfully so. The two of us are cornered, with nowhere to run unless I plan to fall through the rails.

They take a step forward, I take a step back. Gunner moves to place himself between me and the men. "You are under arrest. Max's orders." The leader eyes Gunner distastefully. "The same goes for that thing."

Under arrest?

I hold my hands up calmly. "Fine, but let me speak to Max first. " Where my voice is even, my mind is not. It races as panic grips me. The men spread out as they advance, surrounding us. They have guns, and I, have nothing but a knife.

One wrong move will send a bullet through Gunner.

My boy will not take them lightly. He's acutely aware I do not trust any of them. A part of me wants to yank off his muzzle, for we would have a bigger fighting chance. However, doing so will only worsen the situation. Even if we did successfully take the three men down, I can't run. Hawk and Sabre are still in the compound.

They stop mere feet away. Gunner growls warningly. He crouches low, hackles raised. "You are in no position to make any demands. Resist the arrest, and we will have no choice but to use force. And get the dog under control."

Baldy takes a step forward, inciting a lurch from the trained animal. My dog lands a foot from the man, teeth bared. The leash is taut, but he doesn't yank. "Back off and he will. Unless you stop being a threat, he will remain this way." I clench the fist on my side, willing my hand to stop quivering. Calm Anna, calm. You've got this.

The man takes a step back, scoffing. He towers over me by a good head. I'm no fool to think I'll win a fight against him. "We have no interest to kill you. Max has only called for your arrest."

Slow breath. "And the dog?"

"That, is none of your concern."

"He is my _every _concern," I grit out.

"No, he isn't." With a jerk of the head, two hands clamp heavily on each arm. I yelp and kick out as I'm lifted off the ground. Gunner turns as the leash is snatched from my grasp. He lunges for the person on my left but falls short. The leash is in the hands of the head.

"Good. Let's not waste any more- mpfh!" My shoe slams into his face. I should've taken up Eric advice and worn boots. Gunner takes the opening, diving to the side. The sudden weight shift completely topples the man, and I don't see further as Baldy falls face first.

Purely on instinct, I twist to my side and kick the back of Purple's knees. He shouts and drops, knees absorbing most of the impact before he too falls forward. Pain bursts from my elbow as it slams into the ground. The grip on my arm loosens. I yank it out and snatch the pocket knife strapped to my thigh.

As it flings open, I twist the other arm back to escape Black's hold. With the same angled kick from behind, he joins his falling comrades.

A hand reaches out and I kick away the arm holding Purple's torso up. Added with a guided head smack to the ground, Purple blacks out. A loud satisfying _thump _accompanying.

Pray he isn't dead.

I scramble behind the recovering associate, pulling on his hair to expose his throat. The blade is on his neck. "Stop or he dies."

"Fuck woman, we're just trying to follow orders." Black grits underneath me. Despite his words, he continues to remain frozen, not daring to draw the gun on his belt. "Calm the fuck down."

"Tell me again when your kid is possibly dead and you're being arrested," I snap back.

The man's reply isn't the brightest. "Wait, you have a kid?"

"I can say the same for yourself," Bald-y replies calmly. A gun is pointed to Gunner's head, who is still snarling and thrashing. The muzzle is still wrapped around his jaws, and as if his impotent snout wasn't bad enough, there's an arm pressing down on his neck.

The gun cocks.

Shit.

My teeth gnash. The only option is to drop my weapon. But it doesn't equate Gunner's safety, for I'm not in the position to demand his life.

Somehow, the man beneath me finds amusement in the situation. "And you see Mob? This is why I don't marry. You women are crazy. How does Eric even tolerate you? You're a tyrant," he chuckles. The man insulted me like he there's no way he's dying today, like a knife isn't on his neck.

"Eric tolerates me fine!" I hiss back. "And I'm not a tyrant." Why does everyone I meet only seem to talk about my dogs or Eric? Why the on earth do they even care about them in the first place?

"Explain the animal," he replies flatly.

"What the _hell _is going on here?" A new voice yells behind Baldy (Mob). All three conscious humans turn to the sound.

Axel stands with his hands to his hips. Dressed in the standard jacket and fatigues. His hair is ruffled, having had fingers incessantly run through them. He is visibly stressed. It appears he is, now was, working.

I'm relieved to see a familiar face.

"I told you I'll handle it, not for you to brawl and threaten to kill her dog goddammit. Put the fucking gun down." He strides over with a scowl, assessing the situation. Baldy reluctantly retracts the weapon. My shoulders sag in relief.

Axel snatches the leash from the bulky man and kicks away the arm on Gunner, grumbling furiously under his breath. The dog appreciatively scrambles to his feet, shaking off grit. "I told you to wait for me. The second I turn my back? The three of you are gone."

Following Baldy, I release my hold on Black and fold my knife back into its unassuming shape. The man beneath me jerks away, a hand flying to where my knife was placed. I don't recall applying enough pressure to form an impression.

"Sorry Axe. We didn't want to lose her when she arrived," Baldy's tone has dropped to apologetic, his hard-exterior turning into mush. "And she knocked out Macky." His gaze shifts to his knocked-out comrade then to me, flashing accusingly.

Axel sighs heavily. "Yes, I can see that."

"They attacked me first." I blame childishly, too thrown off by the rapid turn of events to formulate a proper response. "And they said they were going to kill my dog." Tucking the knife back into my pants, I move to stand. Just as Gunner did, I brush off the sand and gunk stuck on my elbow and clothes.

Black is just as childish. "No one said we were going to kill your dog... or your kid."

"Well you implied it," I retort. The four of us stand in an unconventional circle, with Macky still on the ground to the side.

"It's is a weapon," Baldy argues back. There are red scuffs on his forehead and the untattooed sections of his arms. Gunner's done well, despite his blunt claws. The man winces as he touches a reddened area above his brow. He releases a flurry of language when he finds blood.

I stare down both of my attackers. "And you are armed with guns. Tell me which is faster and deadlier," I reply flatly.

Axel sighs again and gestures the two men. "The both of you, take Mack to the infirmary. Make sure he hasn't cracked his head open." Then he extends the leash to me. "And Anna? Here." I accept the rope.

The bleeding man reels back, insulted. "You're just going to give it back to her? Did you not see or _hear_ how deadly this animal is?!"

"Yes, I am fully aware," he scowls. "And if you two knuckleheads didn't realize, he calm when she's calm, vice versa. So of course, I'm giving him back to her." Gunner sniffs from my waist to my shoes, checking my well-being. Other than the occasional glare at the men, he's back to normal.

Baldy disgruntledly mumbles under his breath, moving to help his friend pick up the dead weight. Gunner bares his teeth as the men pass. It goes noticed, for Baldy throws a glare over his shoulder.

"Sorry about that," Axel says. The men are long gone, and we have been standing in silence watching them leave. "Everything is a mess. People are on the edge; especially with more than half of Leadership absent." Eric had managed to sneak Kyle and Veronica out for his hearing, under the guise of an Abnegation meeting. He needed them their support for when he takes Max down. That left Jessica and Max – the two most irrational leaders – to watch over the faction. I can imagine how Jessica's erratic actions and shrill voice may have stirred a panic.

My heart, though still faster than normal, has started to slow. "Thanks for coming. I didn't know what I've done if you hadn't arrived at the last second." Axel nods, and Gunner greets him with a nose nudge. "Zeke called me earlier, something about Four and Cole. I believe Sabre has been dragged into this. Is he... injured?"

"He's currently in a holding cell, too aggressive for anyone to come near, much less a nurse to treat his wounds. Zeke was trying to calm him earlier, but last I saw, he almost had his hand bitten off."

My heart skips a beat. They must've taken him away when I was on call. He sounded so afraid over the phone. The timid boy, alone with people he doesn't recognize nor trust, in an environment that reeks the opposite of safe. Of course, he will be distraught. He needs someone to calm him, someone he entrusted Pinky to.

"How bad are the wounds?" I need to get to him now. But the likelihood of succeeding is low. Max isn't very understanding, and I doubt they left Sabre unguarded. They would arrest me on sight. The best I can do is have a quick chat and then have my baby released as soon as possible. Anything less isn't an option.

Axel greets the german shepherd gently. "There's a gash on his thigh. Though, I'm not sure how big it is. Three inches maybe? Blood and fur were covering it. The bleeding had lessened by the time I'd left. So that's a good sign?" The patrol head eyes me worriedly, I suck in a breath. "I'll take you to Max first, he was very… firm on keeping Sabre from you. Expect him to be as thick as the guys before."

We start in the direction of the Leadership office.

"And Hawk?"

"Max had ordered him to be chucked in a cell too. They were civil with him, since, you know... there were kids around? Your friend, Skylar, kept the situation calm. She brought Hawk to the place." Once all this boils over, I know my friend will demand nothing but answers. I can already feel the headache as she shrieks like a banshee during lunch.

"Okay. Could've been worse," I mumble. Think on the bright side; at least they aren't dead.

Yet.

Axel starts filling me in on everything. "We don't know exactly what happened as the cameras were down, but I do have the most logical guess. Someone had overheard screaming from Four's apartment. By the time the door was hacked the door open, they found Four and another man passed out. Both were bleeding out, but the other guy more. It was hard to recognize the dude, as your dog had done quite the number to… mangle him. Zeke identified him as Cole after he was brought to the infirmary."

A flare of pride surges through me. My boy had delivered, just as I wished he did in many daydreams during initiation.

"There was a stab wound on Four's abdomen and cuts on his arm, no doubt from Cole. His vitals have been stabilized, so he should be fine soon. Can't say the same for Cole, though. Apparently there was a few feet wide of blood around him."

"And Sabre? What was he doing?"

"I wasn't there, so I'm not very sure. He had been howling till help arrived. Some said he was trying to nudge Four awake, or something along those lines. He followed Four as he was rushed to the emergency room. Only later was Sabre…" he struggles with suitable words, unaware I was somewhat there when it happened. "…taken away."

"Sabre was protecting Four. Cole attacked him." I state matter-of-factly. There needn't be evidence for something so obvious.

"I know. Max though, he refuses to believe so. I was going to talk to him about it but instead, he asked me to arrest and throw you in a cell as well. I didn't fight him on it, obviously. I was lucky he asked me in the first place."

Huh. Nevermind my wobbly relationship with Dauntless' head, but is not Sabre his favorite? Did he not run to Jeanine and praise all my boy could do? Among all five leaders, he utilizes Sabre the most. If anything, he should be the one defending his loyal runner.

I scowl at the implications.

"I can see why Eric's friends with you." Not the best thing I could've said, and I almost regret it.

The silver-haired man scoffs, a hand dramatically flying over his chest. "I don't need to prove my worth to you. Eric's friendship is the highest honor I can bestow. He is my king, my one true love, my cinnamon roll."

I eye him weirdly, stepping to the side to create distance. Gunner happily obliges with given more room between us, completely unaware of the topic of conversation.

Axel expression turns impish and he smirks. "If anything, he should be _your_ king. You should call him that sometime. Say, do you have pet names for each other? Like how lovey-dovey couples do?"

"No." I fish for my phone as a distraction, embarrassed by his words. "There was never a need for them." A missed call and a text from Eric ten minutes ago, as well as twelve texts from Skylar. Each bubble is one word, and it could've been all been sent as a single sentence, without caps. Sending her reassurance I myself don't have faith in, I open Eric's.

_I heard what happened, call me if you can. ETA (estimated time of arrival) is 25 mins. Hang in there._

_ Please._

I chew my lip and glance at the approaching elevator. There isn't enough time to call back, and there's no way I can wait for Eric to arrive. Max will soon be hunting for confirmation of my arrest. I'll have to face this on my own.

_Going to speak with Max. You good? _I send back, not forgetting what he had just went through. Today has just been an avalanche of unfortunate events. I can't breakdown again, not when my dogs' health and safety are on the line.

"Will you try though?" Axel asks hopefully, still hung up over pet names, "I think he would like it if you had a name for him."

"I like Eric just fine," I grumble. "It's a nice name." The elevator doors slide open. Gunner shuffles in quickly, excited to press the floor button for us.

"Well yes, but, you could try honey, babycakes, love, dear, snookums'… anything under the sky. Except cinnamon roll though, that's mine. And I'm sure..." he pauses, and I wonder if 'asswipe' counts. Axel is surprised to see Gunner hop down from the buttons. "Wow. No wonder Eric's so smitten over your dogs. And they can fight too?" He bends to give Gunner a good scratch, in some kind of trance.

I tilt my hand. "Somewhat." The whole faction would know eventually. And it's only a matter of days now, courtesy to Cole.

"Yeah, he calls them your bodyguards. And that not only are you virtually perfect, but you come with a 'free reliable protection plan' too. His words, not mine." I laugh. I can hardly imagine Eric babbling away like that. Although, with his recent preach on almond cake, it does sound plausible. Axel snaps out of his daze in horror. "Shit, don't tell him I told you. You're not supposed to know this." His hands clasp together in a beg. "I'll give you anything. Please don't tell him."

I shake my head in mirth. "I won't. And I owe you one, for helping me back there." The elevator dings, opening to a vacant hallway. The office down the corridor is the only one with lights on.

I sigh.

* * *

"It doesn't matter that he's a leader. He's connected to _her_. Cole is _barely alive_ because of them. Don't fight-" Max pauses at the door clicking open. I enter without a second thought. His facial features tighten, and the fist around his phone blanches. "Just do as I say." The call ends.

If him having Eric arrested along with my dogs doesn't give me the strength I need to face him, I don't know what will.

He doesn't move from behind his desk and neither do I.

Confident.

The gun tucked in the waistband of my pants is only a stretch away. Axel had passed it to me in the event I need it. I hesitated on accepting, seeing the weapon has only brought upon fear of losing my family. The instrument was used to threaten Gunner; the instrument was used to threaten Sabre.

And almost succeeded.

My rejection was on the tip of my tongue, hoping to settle this as calmly as possible. As much as I knew Max isn't the brightest, he still runs the faction. And whether I like it or not, he remains above me.

Then Axel pointed out that it's just a precaution, and either way, Max is a dead man. There were no guilt-trips and no sappy romance lines about Eric livelihood if I were to die. He was straight to the point, logical, and objective. He trusted I knew what I was doing.

I guess that did it for me.

I keep the door is open by my wide stance, letting our conversation flow easily outside to where Axel is nearby. He's with Gunner, who's happy to take a quick nap after such an eventful day.

My gaze is fixed on Max's hands. So long they remain on the table, I have the upper hand. He won't be able to beat me should he reach for anything.

Self-assured.

On the unhurried walk to his office, I had mulled over everything and came to two conclusions.

One. I do not regret keeping the dog's abilities hidden. The boys are mine. And I owe no one an explanation or apology unless they've stepped out of line. Hence, I will not apologize for Cole's current state. Sabre was only repaying attempted murder in kind.

Two. Max is against me. Sure, I am 'working with Jeanine' and seem on his side. However, Cole's attack was the final tip over the ledge. Cole must've been suspicious of Four, just as he was suspicious of my dad. I highly doubt Max wasn't in on this too. The way Sabre reacted confirmed the leader's hunch, even though it wasn't intentional. And there is nothing I can do nor say to convince him otherwise – not that it matters anymore. As Axel had said, he is a dead man either way. It's only a matter of time.

"You're not supposed to be here." His speech is clipped and deadly calm, a vast difference from his argument earlier.

I steel myself to match his tone. Play it cool, play it bland. The less emotion I show, the less the situation will blow. The goal is to talk and survive the week, not engage in a shoot-out. "I know. I had a very warm welcome on the way back."

He remains unexpressive. "And?"

"Now I'm here."

He stares, jaw clenching. No doubt my clipped simplicity pissed him off. I stifle a smirk.

I need to remain objective. "I want to discuss what happened."

He does not share the same feeling. "There is nothing to discuss about. You were supposed to be in a cell right now."

Funny.

My reply is a whip crack in the air, emotion seeping through. "Like Eric and my dogs?" Red hot anger flares, his decisions so ludicrous I struggle to reason with myself. He is not fit to lead.

He is visibly pleased by my slip up. His lip curves up. "Yes. Exactly like them. And if you don't comply, their well-being will rest on your shoulders."

My fingers twitch, edging behind. The weapon is tempting. I'd like to see how he enjoys being threatened with his life. "Because they have done nothing but followed the Dauntless manifesto?"

Well, I think it should be written somewhere.

He scoffs and rounds his eyes. "Enlighten me. Tell me how that creature is the epitome of the faction. Tell me how he's a hero when he left a member in a state worse than death."

"Had he not been there, we would be conducting a funeral this very moment. Four is only alive because of him. And Cole's penalty is death. This _creature_ saved Four. He protected the weak. Is that not-" I pause, frowning deeply.

Why am I here?

It has been established that I can't convince Max otherwise. Our current interaction further confirms it. The likelihood of him releasing my dogs and Eric are slim. I should be talking to the other leaders instead. All I need is to win the majority over.

He steeples his fingers, propping his elbows on the desk. "Bold of you to assume Four is the victim."

I feel the wind from behind shift before it happens.

Something darts from the back and clamps on my waist. I'm hauled out of the office with my feet off the ground. My back slams into a thickly clothed chest. The door slams shut on its hinges.

Poof.

It was as if my interaction earlier was a scene from a movie.

I blink.

Against my instincts, I don't kick out. I continue blinking slowly as Kyle and Veronica pass through. Veronica opens the door again and they slip in, two men following behind. She speaks calmly but firmly, saying things I'm not registering. Shouting sparks, something along the juvenile lines of 'you can't do that'. I idly stare at the neatly tattooed arm dragging me along from behind. Then idly wonder if I should incorporate the maze designs with the three paws on my side.

I think I should.

They would fit well together.

I shall do it tomorrow.

* * *

"Open."

The spoon of white goodness is held inches from my lips. I obediently comply. He gently pushes the cold utensil into my mouth, pulling out once my lips shut. It's only slightly melted, and if it weren't for my dazed state, I would've asked how he managed to bring it over without everything liquifying.

He scoops some for himself, in no rush to discuss anything. This continues for a few rounds, him alternating between us. I remain leaning on his side, and he does the same to me. We're in his office, staring at the blank wall on a twin couch.

He's the first to speak. "Today sucks."

"Same."

We don't say anything for a few more seconds.

He scrapes the side of the tub, then extends the liquid to me. He goes back to scrapping after I accept it. "Zeke is bringing Sabre over, once the nurse cleans his wound, along with Hawk. I calmed him down before we came," he informs lightly.

I sigh at the thought of having to re-dress it later. "Thanks."

Comfortable silence again.

I bend to his desk and pluck a few tissues, passing half to him. He thanks me and cleans himself. Like me, his actions are sluggish and half-hearted.

"Hey," I ask, stuffing the waste into the empty tub. "Do you know what we should do now?"

He doesn't take long to answer. "Take a nap?"

"Exactly."

* * *

**A/N**

**This took a while to edit .-.**


	42. 42

Sabre's wound is the third worst I've seen.

It's a decently deep gash, and I'm surprised it didn't hit any main blood vessels. The nurse didn't do much, as I still found bits of gravel between flesh. I don't blame her. She must've been frightened after she saw what's left of Cole – not that I have, yet.

Sabre glared at me during his shower and shave, and kicked up a fuss as I patched him up. Gunner helped by intimidating him into submission, having grown sick of his whines and struggles. And while I appreciate his gesture, the sharp bark caught me by surprise.

I was less than pleased.

Both dogs received an earful.

Hawk was less than helpful, his wet nose hovered over every equipment I picked to use. It came to a point where I snapped at him too. Everything was just too congested with their presence and body heat. He recoiled and moped away, settling a few feet behind to watch quietly.

"Was I gone that long?"

I dump the medical supplies by the door and begin the paw cleaning. My back hurts from being hunched over a prolonged period. It took way longer to treat my dog alone. I would've asked Four for help, but he's in a pickle. Squatting once more, I see the black dots forming again. Sabre limps in last, having falling behind the rush of the other two.

I had done the dressing outside as the medicated aerosol would've stunk up the apartment. It's a herbal formula used in Pre-Great War. The ingredients were found in a book I read. One of the Amity medics helped with the proportions. Since then, it's been the most widely used medication for open wounds. Had I not know the components myself, I would suspect there's voodoo magic in it.

The wound is set to close within three days.

"Just an hour. Why?" Eric speaks from the sink. He's been busy this past hour. The apartment smells familiar.

"Huh." I stand and stretch, grimacing at the ickiness of my shirt. There's a layer of sweat from my earlier taxing struggle to hold the powerful animal still. I'll need to take another shower. "Nothing. I thought I would've been faster."

On the counter are two plates of the wrap things. If it weren't for the fact Eric showered, I would've just screw cleaning and dig in. Unfortunately, Eric's as clean as the sheets I changed yesterday. And I can't have him sit near someone who reeks of sweat and the pungent smell of medication. Stupid Cole. Stupid Four. Stupid everyone.

Good Sabre though, he was a good boy.

* * *

"What is this?" I wave my second warm tube of food around, too hungry to ask during my first.

He glances down at me, peeling his eyes from End Game. "It's a fajita, but I wrapped it like a burrito so it's less messy to eat." He's still halfway on his first tube. Complete opposite from me who eats like it's my last. To my dismay, he's yet to comment on my rapacious eating habits. I can't wait for the day he does, for I'm ready to hit back with his monstrous cookie gobbles.

"Burrito," I say, testing the name of the food. "Cheesesteak? Burrito."

"Yes, burrito," he replies distractedly.

"Burrito," I say again and straighten, stifling a smile.

His attention shifts to me and his face begins scrunch. "What?"

"Burrito," I repeat. He stares for a moment longer before shaking his head, too unbothered to question me further. He returns to the movie.

I settle back against him contently, hooking an arm around his. The maze patterns are stark against his skin. A pretty design I didn't see displayed in the tattoo shop. It must've been custom made. I angle the arm around until it's directly above the three paws on my waist. Eric isn't aware of the tattoos yet, neither is anyone else except my dogs who often see me topless in the apartment. I trace the Dauntless logo in the middle of the maze with my pinky. The three paws are currently blank, outlines left to be filled in later.

He's given me an idea.

* * *

My phone pings in the halfway through the movie.

It wakes Sabre beside me, who throws a groggy glance my way. Unlike the rest of us, he's indifferent to End Game, slipping into a nap the second after the intro ended. He's been grumpy ever since losing the high from reuniting with me and his siblings. Our walk from the holding cell to the apartment was full of stink eyes from Sabre to everyone. His growls towards his captors had his siblings on high alert, which in turn led to a series of apologies from Eric and I. Neither of us felt apologetic at all. I knew this because Eric suggested we let dogs go a round or two with the men the second we left the floor. He'd even promise to have the weapons confiscated to make the match fair.

The dressing on Sabre's thigh is sleek and clean. A large waterproof band-aid slapped on his furless thigh with the center of the pad stained purple. I'll have to order more of the size tomorrow, as well as consult the vet in Amity on antibiotics. I doubt Sabre will be thrilled to visit his most hated place. Even as a puppy he threatened people ten times his size.

The injured animal reaches for the wound, only to be reminded of the cone around his neck. The cone stops him from stretching further, and he futilely tries to reach the band-aid. This goes one for a few seconds before he gives up and glares at me. I chuckle and scratch his snout as he disgruntledly settles back into sleep.

"Who's that?" Eric asks distractedly. My first guess is Skylar demanding answers, but it's not.

I frown at the number. "Not sure. It's not saved."

Eric turns to me, peeking into my locked phone. "Wait. Don't open it." He grabs the mobile and stares at the unrevealing notification. "I know who it is." The mobile is still in his grasp, held away from me. "Anna, trust me?"

I blink. Well, that went from zero to a hundred quick. He appears stressed. Odd, considering not many things unnerve Eric, not even the trial. Heck, he was more concerned over my health if I were to attend than himself. Granted, he did look shaken up earlier, but that could be from my confrontation with Max. Eric didn't share much about how his day went. "Should I be worried?"

He hesitates. "Hope not." I bite my lip. "Can I read it first?" I nod and inform him of my password. His lips flatten as he rereads the message, and I suppress the urge to lean over. Just when I thought he was going to hand it over, he begins fiddling, thumb pressing on the screen and tapping. "I'm deleting it," he says.

"What? Why?" His phone pings - he must've forwarded the message to himself. "Why can't I read it?" I frown. The text was sent to me, I of all people should know what's written.

"I have to go. Don't come looking for me. I'll be back soon."

In a flash, he's no longer beside me. My head spins at his sudden urgency. He's heading to the door and I dart out to snatch his wrist. "Eric, wait. What's going on?" My words come out breathless, worried. My heart rate starts to pick up.

He pauses, turning back to face me. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched; it screams leader than partner. I almost let go. It takes a second for his features to soften, and once it does, he bends to cup my cheek. "Tomorrow. I'll tell you tomorrow," he says softly. _I don't want you to panic, _his eyes continue. Sadly for him, I'm already starting to. "I just need time to figure it out first. Will you trust me until then?"

The way he's staring... I can't do anything except comply. "Okay," I agree meekly.

He presses his lips to me briefly and smiles. For a moment, everything feels right and perfect. My heart warms; I smile back. "Thank you." With a kiss on the forehead, he leaves.

Once the door shuts, I slump onto the couch. "Wow." My mind has not caught up with everything. I idly sift my hand through Sabre's ruff, thoughts quiet.

He was staggeringly gentle. Shocking considering he'd received alarming news. I bask in the brief moment we shared, feeling contented. This must be what it feels to be truly cared by someone beyond my family. It's nice.

I want him back.

"I think I should visit Four now," I mumble distractedly, "or... figure out who texted me."

I pull up the list of my texts. The unknown number is nowhere to be found, neither is the message he forwarded. He made sure to delete all traces. Damn him for being smart.

Lucky for me, I'm smart too.

I pull my thoughts together, placing down the facts I have. Eric recognized the number; Eric was troubled by the contents. It can't be Max, his contact is saved on my phone. Also, his phone was likely confiscated earlier. Now, unless he has someone else working on his cause, I doubt the message came from him.

Which only leads to one other person.

At the lightbulb moment, I search through every saved number Eric had keyed in, coming up short when none are hers.

It has to be.

_Does Jeanine have Dad?_

If she does have him, then she must know-

My heart skips a beat. Hawk rests his head on my thigh. I didn't notice when he had gotten up from the couch.

I fist my shirt as my breathing picks up. Shitty shit. My vision is starting to blur. I'm such an idiot. There was a reason why Eric decided to keep it from me tonight.

Hawk nuzzles into my lap - a sign I need a distraction. I concede to his unvoiced suggestion quickly, clamping down my train of thought.

* * *

"You look like shit."

The honey-skinned man is unnaturally pale. He stares at me bleakly. "Thanks." There's an IV on his wrist and an unflattering gown to match. White bandages weave on both his arms, giving the impression of a half-wrapped mummy. "I appreciate being woken up at 10 pm." Never took him as one for sarcasm.

"You're welcome," I reply chirpily. "I figured now was the best time to check on you."

He glares in irritation. "Where are the dogs?"

My hand flies to my chest and I gape. "Ouch."

He holds my gaze with hard eyes, unfazed. "I'm still mad at you."

I tsk. "But it worked though. Max's arrested and soon will Jeanine." Walking to the door, I open and call in Sabre first. It wouldn't be wise to invite all in, as they will feed off each other's excitation and hence will further harm the injured man. The silver protector hops into the room, his wounded leg held above ground. His grumpiness had lessened when he realized where we were heading. I felt offended as his tail starting wagging in anticipation. Four was the one who gave him the wound, Sabre should be thanking me for patching it up.

The dog's hops grow more frantic as he sees his friend. I'm surprised he didn't topple over with how high his hips would bounce up. Four greets and thanks him, bending to the side as the dog fails to prop onto the bed.

I slowly invite the other two in ten-second intervals. Once everyone is in, I settle onto the only lounge chair available. My dogs greet their trainer curiously, sniffing the sheets and the bandages around his arm. They respectfully don't prop onto the bed, keeping it clean from dirty paws. Four holds onto Sabre's head and mumbles something. His expression is serious, and I'm tempted to inform him the dog won't understand.

"How was he?" I ask.

Four lifts his gaze to me. He slumps back onto the bed, wincing in pain. "Did you know that he could take out the muzzle on his own?" he asks distantly, staring at the ceiling.

"No, but I'm not surprised he did." The muzzles are easy to remove. All Sabre needed to do was lower his head and scrape it off. It was always more for show than a preventive piece of equipment. I'm proud my dog figured that out in time; Gunner wasn't as bright.

"Yeah. He pulled Cole off me. I stopped him once I realized what was happening. He's insane…" he trails off distantly. "It sounded and probably looked worse than getting shot, and I couldn't even see anything; the lights were off."

I don't know how else to reply except with, "That's good."

"Yeah. And after beating Cole up, he wouldn't let me rest. That bugger was shouting his head off. Couldn't shut him up. Cole slept fine though. If it weren't for his heavy breathing I would've thought he was dead."

"He howled to attract attention. The dogs aren't strong enough to open the apartment doors themselves." That or Sabre was sad about his injured friend and was performing a self-invented, pre-funeral ritual. I refrain from mentioning the more probable possibility. "Was Cole in your apartment or something?"

"Yeah, he was. I had gotten a text to retrieve something at the apartment where he was waiting. He placed a knife to my neck and demanded answers. He tried slamming the door shut as Sabre was coming in. I guess the dog managed." Four sighs, clasping his hands on his lap. "Then I tried disabling him, but he knocked me down and stabbed me. My arms got all sliced up as I tried blocking. It was hard to see; the curtains were drawn."

I hum in acknowledgment. Other than Sabre being literally showered, I had also showered him with praises and awkward hugs – the cone was in the way. It didn't matter the outcome, no way will I discourage the dog who needs assurance the most. "And Cole? How is he?"

"Tentatively dead. Even though his wounds were mostly superficial, he will at least be made factionless for attempted murder. On the rare occasion he isn't convicted, he still won't be able to stay. Zeke told me Sabre had maimed his right hand. I doubt it'll heal in time, nor correctly. People with injuries such as these are often made factionless."

"Is that a Cole-thing or a faction-thing?" I ask suspiciously. Kicking out a member for an injury? Sounds ludicrous. These are the people who fought teeth and bone to protect the city, surely their repayment couldn't be this. They are people, not goods with expiry dates.

"Faction-thing. If they are no longer fit to protect the city, then there's no point in keeping them here. The same goes for when people hit the age of sixty-five, they are either asked to jump or leave. Dauntless does not have enough space to accommodate their retirements, especially when they've started physically deteriorating," Four's tone is resigned, an indication he's accepted the fact and moved on.

Me on the other hand...

I frown, realizing I haven't seen anyone as old as the people in Amity. The oldest I've seen is Jessica, and she looks to be in her fifties. To hell if I were to exterminate my dogs once they grow old and slow. All they're allowed to do is to live out their lives in comfort. This includes watching movies to their heart content.

The reasoning of the faction's laws...is a stupid excuse.

There are hundreds of abandoned buildings in Chicago. It shouldn't take much to refurbish a couple of them. And with the increase crop and meat production, food is no longer an issue.

I shall speak with Eric.

* * *

I decide to tell him on another day, when people aren't looking at me funny.

Veronica and Kyle sit side-by-side in the meeting room, staring like I don't belong here. It's as if I'm someone who sneaked into the faction and stands out like a sore thumb, impossible to miss. It came to a point where I had to discreetly check my reflection on the phone.

There is nothing on me. My hair is tied – courtesy of Eric leaving my neck alone – and my attire is fresh. I've not worn anything different. Well… I suppose I do look blearier than deemed acceptable, but Kyle does too.

Nevertheless, it bothers me.

A lot.

I don't recall doing anything to offend them. Last time I checked, they were happy to take down Max – Eric told me they were. Sabre has been a good boy. He limped into the office and slipped into a nap. Hawk resumed his free daycare services and Gunner is helping unload cargo.

It's a perfectly normal morning; minus the events yesterday.

Jessica is staring at me funny too – in an oddly good way. For once, she hasn't glared or scowled like one would when they stepped on turd. Someone must've had filled her in on yesterday's events.

I try my longest to hold it in, but paranoia has set in too deep. "What?" There's not much I can do to politely distract myself from their scrutiny; my dogs aren't here and Eric had left. He whizzed off in sudden remembrance of something I have no idea on.

It feels like everyone knows exactly what's going on except yours truly. And I have a strong feeling that whatever it is, it revolves around me.

Kyle is the only one who speaks up, and when he does, it isn't entirely helpful. "Did Eric tell you about his… hearing in Candor?" he asks uncomfortably.

I blink. Eric never mentioned anything about it. All we did last night was slip in bed and discuss why I would never date Four. Eric had brought it up, not me.

I had also decided against bringing up my suspicion on the text, refusing to dwell on the thought. I gave my father's safety the benefit of doubt. He doesn't owe me a report on his whereabouts. Dad could've just been busy yesterday. For all I know, this is only a new common occurrence. There's no need to jump to conclusions.

Whatever it is, I'll deal with it today, as Eric promised.

"No…? Is he supposed to?" I ask, confused. I trust Eric will tell me if it's something important. However, it does seem important, especially with how the leaders are acting.

Perhaps he had admitted our divergence?

It isn't a big deal to me, but it may be for them. Divergence isn't a widely discussed topic. Perhaps it's their first time see one up close. I scratch my neck awkwardly. This is what my dogs must've felt when they first arrived - a walking exhibition.

Kyle holds up a palm as one would when calming an animal. "No. It's nothing important. That being said... you could ask him sometime if he's willing to share."

I want to dryly point out they shared it with Jessica - someone who is only a fraction as involved as me. I doubt Eric was the one who explained everything to her, if at all. "Right…" I say instead. "Hey, um, do you know why we are here?" It's a ridiculous question, considering I'd slept next to the man who called for this meeting. However, I am desperate to change the subject.

"Oh, we're planning Jeanine's arrest," Veronica replies rather lightly. I blink.

She notices my stupefaction and elaborates. "The original plan was next week, but due to the _unforeseen_ circumstances yesterday, we have to act now." I grimace.

Figures.

* * *

"They have your father."

The plan is simple. Jeanine arrives at Dauntless under the guise of visiting Cole and gets arrested. And for someone who's seemingly the smartest in the city, she fell into the trap with relatively little fanfare.

The last I checked, she and her minion are locked in a cell, waiting to be carted off Candor. There wasn't much she could've done for she realized a second too late. Being in heels and pencil skirts, there was only so much she could do to resist.

I was there when it had happened, and I didn't miss her malicious words directed to me. The only thing I was surprise on is how quickly she and Max turned against me. Their attitudes flipped like a switch, teeth-baring without a demand for an explanation. Were they playing me all along?

"I suspected it last night," I reply simply. Eric extends his phone to me, on the screen is what I assume was last night's text.

_Hello Anna,_

_There is something I wish to discuss, regarding your father. It would be wise to come alone, and preferably at 5 pm tomorrow. There'll be someone waiting for you when arrive at Erudite. _

_I trust you'll follow through?_

I pass his phone back, kicking out my legs to a swing. We're currently traveling to Erudite. Eric's driving just the two of us. Backup will only arrive later, once we're well inside. The aim is to arrest anyone else who's associated with the project, as quickly as possible. And Eric has a long list.

But first, we need to get to my father.

"How did you know they have him?" I ask curiously. The text had been phrased studiously, giving nothing away.

"I called Johanna. She confirmed that he's been missing since yesterday," he replies.

"She told me that too." He lifts an eyebrow in question, attention still miraculously on the road. "I went to Amity yesterday, remember?"

"Oh. So you knew?"

I shrug, petting Hawk's shoulder haphazardly. He has muscles, though not as thick as Gunner's. I feel around the dips and curves, appreciating his hard work. "I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure."

Eric had decreed Hawk should come along, something along the lines of versatile and friendly. I didn't object, for I planned to pick him too, but for entirely different reasons.

I need him as a warning light before I fall apart.

So far so good.

* * *

"Jeanine isn't here... She had headed to Dauntless an hour earlier. Did she not arrive?" The receptionist looks between the three of us, genuinely confused. Her face pinches and she scratches her head, messing up her tight bun.

Eric shrugs, pulling out his phone. "That's what she told us too, but we haven't heard from her. Where's Stacy? She should know where Jeanine had gone." he asks casually. Stacy must be lackey _dous_.

The young woman nods, her expression relaxing at the suggestion. She agrees readily, picking up the landline telephone and dialing her number. Passing the landline to Eric, I gesture at her with my eyes. Eric shakes his head slightly – innocent.

Quiet words are exchanged. The answers from him are crisped and impossible to understand. He speaks vaguely, and the receptionist grows more confused by the minute. With the last question on her location, Eric ends the call. We leave quickly, and Eric informs me Stacy has my father.

He assures me not to worry, for we can save him. I nod wordlessly.

I am not optimistic.

So when the bang goes, I don't feel anything.

Stacy shrieks, dropping the weapon in her hand like it had burned her. She then proceeds to burst into a sobbing fit, wailing something I don't bother to catch. Hawk is in distress. He had yelped at the loud noise and is currently thrashing against the leash. I release him, and he beelines for the heap of a man.

Eric is yelling, but it's dulled by the din of the gunshot. He yells something at her and she nods jerkily, stumbling over to a wall. Through my glazed vision, I see him rushing to the man, nudging the panicking dog, and checking for vitals.

The bullet had gone through the head, so when Eric's figure stilled, it was only a confirmation.

It makes sense why Jeanine left my father at the mercy of Stacy. The leader was hinging on Stacy's crumbling mental state from Cole's condition, knowing fully well she'll pull the trigger no matter the costs.

I don't bother to approach, for I wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. These past two days have been exhausting. I'm ready to go home.

I sigh and head for the lift. Hawk doesn't reply to my call, so I decide to leave him there. Taking a few floors down, I informed the earlier receptionist to call for medical help. Her face is pale, no doubt having heard the gun gone off. I stare at her. She stares back, her mouth gaping like a fish.

Finally, she jumps into action, nodding vigorously. She speaks in quick succession, and I hardly react. When I'm affirmative that everything spewing out is gobbledegook, I leave.

* * *

Eric finds me in my apartment.

I glance over my shoulder as the door opens, peeling my attention from a land of blue people with their queer hair connectors. "Why-" he stops himself and shakes his head. He appears worn out and stressed; I'm not sure why. Everything except my father's death had gone as planned. "He was looking for you, you know?" Sabre stirs from an adjacent couch. He slips back into sleep when he doesn't find anything interesting.

My gaze flicks down to the dog beside him. Hawk is limp. His normal attentive form is dull, his ears are flat and tail is low. "Oh. Thanks for taking care of him." I return to the movie. I had left both of them in Erudite, taking the nearest train back to Dauntless. No one knew of my departure, except for Hawk who probably snuffed me out.

Hawk appears before me, looking like he aged a few years. He whines and climb onto the couch, settling by my side. His head is on my lap, a request for comfort and pets. I absentmindedly pull off his muzzle and unbuckle his vest. The blue alien-human dude had discovered a world of winged monsters. I picture myself with one, soaring through the skies of worn-down Chicago. The sight wouldn't be pleasing.

I forget about Eric's presence until a throat clears. "Johanna has approved our stay. She said we can remain as long as you'd like," Eric says evenly.

"Why?" I decide I don't like the winged reptiles, preferring to have the giant dog with the petals around its head. The big boy would do handsomely around Dauntless. He's a fearless bugger with both brawn and brain. Feeding and lodging would be a problem though. I sigh in dismay. If only Erudite could concoct his genome from the movie.

There's no reply, and I forget about his presence again.

"For the funeral. Your dad just passed," Eric replies almost coldly.

I sigh. "Yeah, I know. I was there when it happened." I pout when I miss the conversation between the dude and pretty girl. Grabbing the remote, I pause the movie. "There's no reason to go back to Amity. Let the dead bury the dead." I rewind the scene.

Eric blocks my view. He stands with his hands on his hips, frowning. "Your father died, do you not want to attend? If you won't do it for yourself, at least go back to comfort your mom."

I hum, nodding airly. "My mother is dead." His eyes flare and I hold up the remote to stop him. It's clear he's balancing on a precipice of snapping - a reasonable reaction. Regardless, I don't want to deal with it. "And before you explode, get Johanna to send someone to check on her now. She's probably in the bathroom."

_Forgive me._

Two wobbly words written on a torn piece of paper. I should've seen it coming. Of course, she wouldn't want to carry on. I'm no longer in Amity; the dogs are no longer in Amity. There's nothing left for her.

But despite being fully aware, I can't.

"Now, if you'll be so kind as to move, I'd like to resume the movie."

* * *

**A/N**

**Been stuck on a future scene. I think I'll have to scrap and rewrite. **


	43. 43

The next few days pass in a blur.

Eric dragged me to Amity, something about me not wanting to regret my parent's departure or whatever. He was prepared when he entered my apartment, complete with newly purchased luggage bags and iron-clad determination. I didn't have the energy to reject his insistence, especially since he began packing my clothes himself.

It just wasn't worth arguing.

To Eric's heavily suppressed surprise, the funeral procession was nowhere near the conventional dark clouds and black clothing. It was a bright, cooling day. Tree huggers planted flowers above the freshly covered graves, smiling and speaking fondly like the deceased could hear. And if the absurdity wasn't enough, a party was thrown in their honor later that evening.

Everything felt more of celebrating a new birth than having lost a loved one. It seemed that the only logical beings were my dogs, who took it upon themselves to warp into professional mourners. Poor Hawk was bad on the day it happened. But the three of them combined… they made up for the entire faction's lack of gloom.

Somehow, the dogs knew they were dead when we first walked past the house. We were on our way to a guesthouses when they took a sharp detour. I didn't have the energy or care to call them back, leaving them to their own devices. Hours later I received a call from Johanna on the dogs attempting escape at the border of the faction. She believed they were tracking the truck which took my mom to the embalming center.

The past few days have been hell for the dogs. They haven't been coping well, especially Sabre. Their sorrow could be heard miles away throughout the day, with Sabre kick-starting each howl session the second they aren't distracted. At night, they would crowd on the bed, refusing to leave the room. The bed was too small to fit all five of us, so Eric took the couch downstairs.

My partner hasn't said anything that isn't necessary. He doesn't ask how I'm doing. He doesn't talk about work. He doesn't utter a peep about anything except for if I'm ready to leave the house for meals or the funeral.

And as much as I enjoy not being baby-ed and comforted like I'm glass, I doubt it's because he's giving me space. Something is up with him. The eyebags prove it.

And it irks me that he isn't telling.

"What is it?" I lazily run a hand down the top of the blond mane, sweeping off the wood shavings. The hair is coarse, almost plasticky. I'm not sure how horse manes look flowy in movies, but kudos to pre-War civilization and whatever hair products they used.

"What is what?" Eric asks from my right. Unlike my indifference, his words are wobbly - stressed from having to multitask.

I turn to him. We're riding away from the areas of civilization, solely because it's the best way to avoid visitors offering condolences and bland desserts. I've gotten more than enough from Dauntless already, and Eric deserves a break for answering the door _and_ tolerating the guests.

Amity should be comforting John instead. He's not holding up as well as me.

"You," I finger circles to gesture the entirety of him. "What's wrong?"

He grips the reins, knuckles blanching. The expression on his face shows he's half expecting to fall. Much to his silent protest, he hadn't gotten enough practice as he'd like before we'd set off.

Lucky for him, Clyde has twice the patience he has and is the only horse who can function independently with a completely inexperienced rider. Johanna begrudgingly agreed for Eric to borrow him – Clyde's her favorite.

He had invited himself as the dogs and I were heading out despite having no clue on where we're going. Muttering something on ensuring I don't do anything stupid. I couldn't be bothered to tell him otherwise, holding out till the last second to inform we'll be riding.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you?" he throws back. He wears a dark yellow shirt lent from a farmer. Johanna figured it'll better we wore Amity colors, as it would reduce suspicion. Eric hates the selection of clothes; not that anyone noticed. The only reason I know is because he would change out the second we return home.

"I'm fine, but you're not. Something's bugging you." We're nearing the forest line, I lightly pull on the reins to lead Joy in. The dogs have long disappeared the moment they saw the trees. Only Sabre remained at our pace, realizing after a few hesitant strides that he wouldn't be able to keep up with his brothers. His wound is healing well. The deep gash now merely a raw pink streak. "Is it my mom? Were you close to her?"

Eric attempts to scratch his neck, but a rock from the dark bay horse has him gripping for his life. He clears his throat instead, head shaking. "No. I've only met her a couple of times." Clyde falls behind, tailing Joy and I. Eric doesn't know the first thing about riding a horse. Though, I do suspect he knows 'whoa' means slow down. Johanna had wearily assured the horse wouldn't bolt, especially when I have his mare.

"Is it Jeanine's takedown then? Did everything go according to plan?" I don't know when Max's and Jeanine's trial is, but I assume Eric will have to be there for it. I wonder if Eric will be relieved from Leadership once we return. When he replies with a yes, I continue prying. "Is it your position?"

"It's not been decided. The three remaining leaders are awaiting our return before moving forward. Veronica is currently is standing as head."

I hum, not particularly interested in the faction. The only thing that matters now is figuring what's wrong with Eric. And I'll give it to him, he's good at hiding his feelings. However, not good enough. Whatever it is, it's been bothering him since his return from Erudite.

Neither of us speak after that, and the trek to the stream is quiet. Occasionally there'll be a chirp or rustle from birds and squirrels. Twice Gunner and Hawk returned to check upon us. They move together, a pair of wolves hunting nothing. Hawk leads the way, his keen nose picking up scents of animals quicker.

"If you're blaming yourself over my father's death, don't," I say gently, gliding my fingertips over the surface of the rushing stream. The water is cooler than when I was with John. The temperature is dropping too quickly for my liking. In a few more weeks, I'll have to start permanently wearing a jacket.

Silence.

Bingo.

"There was nothing you could've done." I continue, looking past my shoulder. Eric stands with his jaw clenched, gaze fixated on a tree to the left. Rising from the boulder, I pad over to him and rest my hands on his shoulders. "And I don't blame you."

His eyes slowly find mine, weary and defeated. The pity nauseates me. "I'm sorry."

I step away in disgust. I've had enough with all these looks I've been getting. People should just screw off and continue with their lives, stop pretending to give two shits. "If you think that you've failed me, you didn't."

"I did."

I grit my teeth. "No, you didn't. You were trying to save us, and you did. My father was a dead man the second he was caught." If there was anyone who should think they've failed the other, it's my parents.

His gaze turns hard, igniting like a flame. "Stop it."

I match his flare with my own. "Stop what?"

"Stop speaking so flippantly of them and their deaths. They're your parents," he snaps.

I scowl. "So what? You expect me to respect them after what they've done? Because they've done shit. My father was a fool and my mother a coward."

"Don't call them that. Your dad was trying to take down Jeanine, just like you."

I scoff and round my eyes. "I wished. His misfortune was a product of his own egoistic, selfish means." _I'm hoping we can also get our hands on the serum. I'm curious about the substances involved. Perhaps I could use them to engineer something else._ "He'd never express the intention to turn her in. It was all for his _own_ serum testing." Worst of all, he refused to accept help from his daughter, who clearly had a better plan paved out.

Eric blinks.

"And if you're going to defend my mother by saying she couldn't live without him, that's bullshit. She didn't even _try_." My pent-up anger is resurfacing. I can't believe I blamed their situations on me not trying hard enough. They were grown adults. They were my parents. They didn't need me to tell them to get their shit together, the roles should be reversed. "_She_ left me. And had the balls to tell me before she even did. She told me that she's given up, that she isn't going to fight, to _live_, for me."

I'm yelling now, betrayed and furious. "Everyone says my dad was heroic and my mom was devoted, but I see through their bullshit. She left me when I had just lost him. She didn't try harder to talk him out of it. She didn't say goodbye. She didn't come to comfort. She just left, not once thinking about how it would affect _me_."

"And yet, she wanted me to forgive her. Forgive her for not trying. Forgive her for destroying me. How can I?" The dam breaks. Tear prick my eyes. I fist my shirt. "How can anyone forgive another for willingly abandoning them?" This isn't a fairytale where parents give up their children to protect them. This is real. They broke my trust, just like the people in school. They told me they would never leave me. They told me they would always love me, that I _matter_ to them.

They lied.

My vision blurs. "Was my mom not enough that my dad put his selfish curiosity before her worries? Was I not enough that my mother decided I wasn't worth enough to live for? Am I not-" my voice cracks. I struggle to breathe, my chest painfully twisting. Strong arms cage me in and I instinctively lean into the embrace. "I tried," I mumble nasally, nose blocked with snot. My head is on his chest, and I can faintly make out the steady heartbeat. "I tried to talk him out of it… to take over."

I close my eyes and hug him tight. The loneliness is beginning to set in, hitting like an avalanche. I've been trying hard to shut it out, forcing myself numb. It had almost worked. "They were supposed to love me, to care for me. To be my family..." But they left, left me without anyone. I have no more immediate family.

Only if I had pushed more, remained here... would everything have been fine? My knees give out. I'm so exhausted, so wounded.

"You are enough. There was nothing more you would've done," Eric says softly, comfortingly.

I wish I could believe him. "You weren't there-"

"I didn't need to be there. You've done more than anyone else would've done. There was so only so much you could've done, and you live a faction away."

"But if I hadn't transferred…"

Eric leans away until he can see my swollen face. His arms still support my weight, and I hate that I don't have the strength to hold myself. "Sweetheart, even if you hadn't transferred, your father would've still been captured and Jeanine would still be You transferring was is what placed her behind bars. You woke me up."

Did he…?

I blink quickly and inelegantly suck up my snot. "What do you mean?" Thrown off so suddenly, my strength returns. I find my feet.

He blinks too, not believing what he had admitted. "I mean…" he clears his throat and looks away, embarrassed.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I smile assuringly for a second before looking away, belatedly realizing how crappy I must look.

Deciding he - mostly I - needed space, I step out of his embrace and head for the stream. The dogs have returned from their adventure, and are quietly resting near the rummaging horses. Noticing my parting, they rise and head over. Their tails hang limp and low, threading carefully around my fragile state.

I kneel before the stream and wash my face. I've lost count of how many times I've broken down in front of Eric. And honestly, it's embarrassing. I don't need a mirror to know my eyes and nose are red and puffy. Blowing out my nose and washing my hands, I turn to greet the three canines. Gunner's head is low, and he presses his cheek into my outstretched palm. Sabre goes underneath my armpit from behind, squeezing himself in to make space. Once he found a good spot, he whines quietly and nudges my cheek with his cold nose. The final dog is less emotional. He settles down in before me and quietly lays his head on my lap.

I suppose they are the only family I have left.

Eric speaks up a minute later. "Much like your mum, I lost my will to live when my sister died." He walks to us, dropping a few feet away to sit with his ankles crossed. Both arms prop him from behind. He's nervous, looking everywhere except us.

I get the feeling like he's never done this before - share. "Elsa?"

He glances up, surprised. "You knew her?"

"Not really, John only briefly mentioned she was your twin." _And that she is presumed dead. _

"Yeah, she was. Our mother died giving birth to us, and our father was a one-night stand. She was the only family I had. We were close." His voice is tight. Even from my defeated-shocked state, I know having this conversation is difficult for him. I have half the mind to assure him another time is fine. "We lived on the outskirts of Erudite, far from school. And every day we would walk home together. It was a simple life... up until we argued one day." He laughs wryly. "I don't even remember what it was about, other than the fact that it was a big deal."

"She went home alone while I remained at school. It was late that day. The sun was setting when I'd left." Gunner slips away, padding over to the crestfallen man. Eric manages a small grateful smile to the dog. He stretches out a hand to pet him. "Long story short, I was walking home when I heard her sobs. She was being raped by factionless. And by the time I came back with help, she was dead," he says steadily, rushing out the words in as little breaths as possible.

I remain silent.

"So when Jeanine suggested I train for Dauntless, I agreed. She knew had I been more physically fit, Els could've lived. I was aware of her manipulation. She was preying on my state, and I let her. All I wanted was revenge and change. This wouldn't have happened if the factionless weren't allowed to roam freely. They needed to be contained, or executed. And Jeanine had a solution, though not the best. It didn't matter if I came out dead or alive in the end. I no longer saw a point in living. She liked that, my unflinching attitude. I lost myself as the days went by. There wasn't anything offered that I wanted. And I tried everything; booze, sex, beating the crap out of people... but every morning I still woke up empty, alone. Els was the only person who knew me. We had our backs. We had each other."

Were I standing, his next words would've sent me tumbling backward. "Then I saw you." He scratches his neck awkwardly, face rapidly turning pink. "And it was the weirdest shit in my life."

My jaw falls, shocked but also offended by how unromantically he said it. If I didn't hear better, he described seeing me similar to someone who abruptly dropped their pants and shat on his boots.

"I don't know what the fuck was going on. I was running an errand on the fence, then someone pointed out some topless girl running around with three dogs."

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

He's still focused on stroking Gunner, but his lips have lifted into a smile. "So I watched. You were using your shirt as a rag for sweat. I _suppose_ it was an unusually sunny evening, as I was sweating too."

I don't remember that day, because there have been too many days like it. Of all the other times he could've first seen me, he saw me without a shirt. Granted, I was wearing a bra, but still…

"I laughed, especially when you tripped over… Sabre, I believe. You were shrieking and throwing your arms everywhere. Then you tried chasing him, but was tripped over by Hawk." He's laughing now, bold and unabashedly.

I glare, remembering that day clearly. It was somewhere summer last year. I recall returning home with a ton of scratches all over my torso and finding grass seeds in my bra. My dogs had ganged up on me, tripping me over and over by intercepting my path or just audaciously knocking me down from behind. Eventually, it came to a point where I had to fend them off with a stick I miraculously found. Though, my defense only lasted a minute before Sabre yanked it out of my grasp thinking we were playing tug-of-war.

Suddenly it hits me. "You've been watching me for a year?"

He immediately sobers, coughing. "Please don't stab me. It's not as pervy as it sounds." His nose scrunches and he flushes even more red. For a second, I thought he was Axel in Eric's skin.

"Uh-huh…"

"The guards see you more often than me. I only come once or twice a week," he defends weakly.

The hair on the back of my neck stands. There are always eight guards on duty at any given time. I doubt they were all exclusively watching me. Shit. I wonder what they must be thinking of me now I've transferred. Surely they would recognize me now I have the dogs here.

"Why? You don't even like Amity people," I ask, forcing down all the embarrassing things I've done. To him, I must've been another peace-serum high idiot. How could I have stood out from the rest?

"I don't know. It was just nice watching you. I was enthralled by the dogs and you." I blush. Sabre takes this moment to jab his snout into my reddened cheek. I grab his snout and scowl at him. The intelligent dog grins and backs off, heading to bug Eric instead. The man clears his throat, smirking at how my dogs are gradually abandoning me.

"I starting coming to the fence every week, typically after a long day at Erudite. Watching you... calms me. It's more therapeutic than anything honestly. It showed me a world where everything was simple, not fucked up. I did try looking for you in Amity, but only saw you a couple of times. You're were always far away, talking with John. It seemed clear you both were a thing."

Well that explained his inexplicable jealousy towards my cousin.

I never did notice Eric. Though, I did notice the Dauntless truck parked outside now and then. John would always pull me away towards the woods when it's around, telling me I best keep my head down and not attract unwanted attention.

Funny.

"But you couldn't recognize me when I transferred?" I was so sure Eric's gaze lingered on me longer than the rest on the rooftop. "Did you at least suspect it was me?"

He cringes and reaches for Gunner. The dog is resting contently pressed to Eric's thigh. Sabre takes the other side, mimicking his brother. Altogether, they resemble exotic royalty. "No, not really. Briefly, I guess, once or twice. When I first heard of the news of your absence at the field, I thought you were sick, because John had been bringing the dogs out instead. I didn't assume you had transferred, for it would've been an insanely nonsensical move - to leave your pets like that." Now it's my turn to cringe. "Only when I noticed the dogs have started staying at Johanna's office, I concluded you transferred. I asked about them briefly. The way she spoke confirmed that you were still alive and well."

Had Johanna knew he was looking for me all along?

"She was very vague, didn't like that I took an interest in the dogs at all."

"And you didn't link me to the girl? Aren't my calves supposed to be rare to come by?" I laugh. Even from a distance such as the fence, my calves are still unmistakably identifiable. Not many females come close to mine.

He shrugs. "Well you did resemble her, but you also didn't. You were different in Dauntless, more guarded, closed off. And the chances of you being her were even slimmer since it is a well-known fact dogs aren't permitted in the faction."

But here they are.

There's a sparkle in his eye. He smiles, almost like he heard my thoughts. "Once I did find out you are her, I started planning on how I could bring them over. Only to find out that you-" He suddenly slaps a hand over his face, groaning. "Are we actually having this conversation..." He curses quietly, hiding behind his hand. Among the swear words, I make out 'embarrassing as fuck' and 'stupid Anna effect".

I laugh. My insides are fuzzy. Hearing what he's done for me is cute, to say the least. With his face still tightly covered, I wave my dogs off, and they happily oblige. Hawk and Gunner head over to the stream for a drink while Sabre trots off to disturb the horses. I sneak up on him, careful not to step on any dried leaves. Distantly, horses snort loudly as the ignorant dog disrupts their private grooming.

"And?" He jumps when my legs touch his, hand falling away to reveal wide eyes. I climb into his lap, setting myself down to prevent him from running away.

"What are you doing?" Despite his words, he doesn't push me off, uncrossing his ankles instead. He intakes sharply as I lean in. I nuzzle his neck, the warmth of him spreading in my chest.

"Nothing," I mumble. One slow lick up a dark bar sparks a shiver. I lick my lip.

Arms instinctively wrap around me, pressing me closer. "Sweetheart…"

"Yeah Eric?" I tug on his ear gauge with my teeth. It's a solid unyielding stone, and I find it way more arousing than it should be. "Carry on…" He purrs, chest pulsating like the cats here. His walls lower, exposing the simple man who's I've grown incredibly fond of. He buries himself into the crook of my neck and I run a hand through his hair. It hasn't been gelled up since the day we arrived. And while I love the soft feel, it's way too short for my liking.

"I think we should stop," he murmurs. His mouth is on my neck, sucking. I would stop him, but the sensation is sublime. Knowing this is him marking territory sends warmth pooling at my nether regions.

"Yeah…? Why?" He gives my neck a sealing lick and pulls away to meet my eyes. His gaze is hooded, darkened with desire. I bite my lip and smile faintly. It's always a pleasure to know the effect I have on him.

He groans and kisses me fiercely, tongue forcing my lip free. "Because…" he says between short breaths, "we're alone, and I want you." Unwrapping one arm to support us, he thrusts his hips up. The erection is unmistakable. It presses on my core and I instinctively rub against it. Pleasure shoots up from the contact. I'm fucked.

"Then have me," I murmur. His hips don't respond to my grinding, but his tongue does. It pummels into my mouth roughly, forcing my tongue into submission. I stifle a moan.

The hand on my waist tightens, halting my movements. With one last thrust of tongue, he captures my lower lip and pulls, releasing a second later. The hand then travels up to my chin, holding me in place as I stare straight at him. His slate blues are blown out, pupils dilated. Each breath from him is heavy and labored, a battle for control waging in his eyes.

"Because," he starts slowly, growing frustrated. He kisses me once more, but only briefly. "I would rather do this in my bedroom, where we don't have five pairs of eyes watching us and won't need to worry about raining bird shit," he says in all the seriousness in the world.

My need is replaced by amusement.

He huffs when I burst out laughing. "Okay Burri, okay. No forest sex, got it." I climb out of his lap and stand, stretching. Fair enough. I wouldn't want twigs to dig into me either.

"Burry?" he asks, confused. He plants both hands behind and stares up to meet me.

I thug my shirt down when it hikes up. "_Burri," _I correct, "like Burrito."

He blinks a few times, the skin between his eyes crinkling. "Is that my pet name?" When I nod, he scowls. "No."

"Hey, you're using sweetheart," I point out and leave. The horses neigh suggestively as I make my way to them. Clyde throws his head back, paws the ground, and snorts. I shoot him a dark look. The palomino snorts too, shaking her head. Gold hair flips side to side as she mocks me.

"But sweetheart sounds nice!" he shoots back defensively. "Burrito does not." I successfully hoist myself on Joy on the second try. And when I've settled comfortably, I grapple Clyde's reins and head to Eric. He's frowning, lips moving in incoherently as he mumbles to himself.

"At least mine's original," I smirk down from the high horse. "I bet yours came from Axel's long list of suggestions."

He scowls and climbs to his feet. Snatching the ropes from me, he grumbles under his breath and grabs a hold of the worn saddle. "Whatever."

Clyde loses it when Eric loudly lands on his ass.

* * *

**A/N**

**Just realised I manage to write 4.5k words for 1 scene **

**My country is back in lockdown = more writing time?**


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